


Song and Sword Arc II; Coincidence/Collapse

by Steelharp



Series: Song and Sword [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Blood and Violence, Corruption, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gridania (Final Fantasy XIV), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Intrigue, Ishgard (Final Fantasy XIV), Ishgard Politics (Final Fantasy XIV), Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Missing Persons, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Original Character, Slow Burn, Star-crossed, Ul'dah (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steelharp/pseuds/Steelharp
Summary: Nasrinne is not the warrior of light. Neither is Pascalle. But the Warrior of Light's tale isn't the only tale that's been unfolding on Hydaelyn. While Nasrinne and Pascalle dance around their feelings for one another, the mystery they’ve become embroiled in only deepens. As the clues are uncovered, a dangerous foe begins to emerge. Can Pascalle face the truth he so longs to ignore?
Series: Song and Sword [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This entire work (consisting of 4 arcs total) has been adapted and edited from a roleplay between my fiance and me that took place over the course of 18 months. It cements the backstory of our OC's within the world of FFXIV and Hydaelyn, and has been a labour of love for both of us.  
> Canon terminology has been used as much as possible, please forgive any slips in vernacular.  
> As the events of the game's MSQ exist within a time bubble, creative license has taken place when describing the passing of time between events.  
> Majority of supporting characters are original NPC’s we created. Relationships with MSQ characters referenced in passing have been kept intentionally vague to allow our backstory to exist flexibly with the backstories of other OC’s and RPers we interact with.  
> If you're a fellow RPer and you'd like to learn more about our OC's feel free to visit our tumblr @ steelharp.tumblr.com/ (best viewed on desktop)

**_Hall of Flames; Ul’dah_ **

Pascalle frowned as he watched Nasrinne lean against the counter while they waited for the Sergeant.

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this, Nas?” He asked her softly, concern creasing his brow. “It hasn’t even been two suns.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved his concern away with one hand, “It’s good for the healing process to be up and about.”

He wasn’t so sure about this, but Hemmet appeared before he had a chance to press his concerns.

“ _ Naz _ ,” He said with a wide smile when he saw her, “I’m well pleased to see you on your feet.”

“Thank you, Hemmet.” She smiled, “I understand you arrived just at the right moment, you have my gratitude for looking out for us both.”

At the word  _ both _ he looked at Pascalle, 

“Of course, don’t mention it.” Then he offered the knight a friendly nod of his head, “Ser Pascalle,”

“Sergeant.” He replied, returning the nod, albeit perhaps a tad stiffly.

“Well, come on through both of you. We can talk in my office, you probably shouldn’t be on your feet for too long, Naz, it’s only been a sun and a half.”

“The both of you worry too much,” She laughed.

Hemmet’s office was not large, but it was not uncomfortable either. It was well-furnished, with a handsome desk and cabinets, and it was private. Pas found this a bit strange, surely, they should be giving the report in the presence of his superior.

But the door was closed behind them, and the Sergeant pulled out Nasrinne’s chair before he sat. Pascalle pulled out his own chair.

“So, according to Arnor, I’zuna was the one who was the real antagonist. Came up with the whole plan…”

“I’d believe that.” Nasrinne’s lips twisted into a slight scowl at the memory of the Miqo’te.

“She  _ was _ a nasty piece of work.” Pascalle agreed, “But Lord Arnor was certainly not blameless, it was he who first drew a weapon…” In truth it had been Nasrinne who had struck the first blow to anyone, but they  _ had _ already been poisoned at that point.

“You don’t need to call him Lord. He’s a bloody pirate.” Hemmet laughed, beginning to take some notes on the pad of paper in front of him. “And he drew the blade because you cottoned on to the poison?” He looked up at Nasrinne, who nodded to him. “Also, Arnor said it was the two of you who were keen on inviting the old nobleman, Rougecorpe was it?”

“Rougecarpe…” Nasrinne corrected him reflexively, “That’s true.” She said, “I wanted to speak with him about my friend Amandine… you know…”

“Ah, yes.” Hemmet said a little softly, “Rest her soul, poor lass. Was Rougecarpe a friend of hers too?”

“Lady Nasrinne thought so, yes.” Pascalle said, glancing toward Nasrinne hesitantly. They hadn’t really spoken about what they would tell Hemmet, and he still remembered the things said at the table in the Violet Lounge. .. _ He just looks the other way when someone does _ … “But we never got to speak with him much, and as I said. I’zuna and Arnor were discussing the fact that he had some debts…”

“Look, the reason I’m asking you this is because we’ve spotted I’zuna speaking with him back at the Saucer…”

“She went back to the Saucer?” Pascalle asked, surprised. “I suppose she must have gotten a healer…” He mumbled, remembering the jagged shards of glass. (He’d watched the conjurer pull a few pieces out of Nasrinne’s palm. It hadn’t really been pleasant.)

“Aye, I’d say she did. Probably had a stash of potions somewhere too, and a safe house of Arnor’s to flock to…” Hemmet shook his head, “Even though we’ve got Arnor here in a cell, that wouldn’t stop his men from chasing his debts… and Nasrinne you said Fabrice was friends with your friend Amandine… did she… did she have any debts that you know about?”

Nasrinne frowned, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. This was of course, an act. Nasrinne had never been friends with Amandine Lanencourt. And she had no idea if she had any debts to the Thanalan underworld.

“I really don’t know, Hemmet.” She told him honestly, “That’s why I wanted to speak to Fabrice. So, he could tell me the sort of people who Amandine was keeping company with so I might make some sense of her tragic murder…”

“Did Arnor say if he knew the late Lady Lanencourt?” Pascalle asked Hemmet, quirking a brow.

“I never thought to ask him, so I don’t know. But… look, just between you and me, I think it’s a bit off I’zuna going to speak with him… It could be a case of Arnor cleaning shop, so to speak… but whether the young noblewoman was one of the blots on his record book, I couldn’t rule it out knowing his business as I do.” It seemed the Sergeant was offering them as much honesty as they were offering him. “Look, why don’t we go and speak with him. You can see what he says yourself…”

Pascalle frowned, pondering the other man’s decisions. It was quite unorthodox to make this offer, perhaps to him alone. But Lady Nasrinne was simply a private citizen… was he trying to impress her?

But Nasrinne was already on her feet, and Hemmet had offered her his arm. Pascalle’s frown deepened as he rose from his chair, following behind them. The expression vanished the moment that Nas cast a glance back at him over her shoulder. One of her droll smiles painted upon her perfect lips.

Arnor was in a small cell by himself. He did not look much better than he had when they had last seen him, a shade of dark stubble marring his swollen face. Apparently, no one had gotten  _ him _ a conjurer.

“Brought you some visitors, Arny!” The Sergeant called cheerfully as they approached the bars of the cell’s door. “We wanted to ask you some questions, ay?”

Arnor looked up at the three of them darkly, a cold smile spreading across his lips.

“Well, well if it ain’t ‘alf me bleedin’ luck. Ishgardians.” He said, his voice dry as a bone.

“Lady Nasrinne here has a few questions to ask you about a friend of hers.”

Pascalle watched Nasrinne as she studied Arnor through the gaps in the iron posts. Her lips pursing thoughtfully while she considered her words. He had watched this little habit of hers plenty of times now. The way her lips twisted together into a small pout, before she drew a sharp, little breath through her nose. It wasn’t some sort of tell. She was just as likely to tell you the truth as a lie after this little ritual. But it  _ was _ a ritual. A little custom she adhered to that  _ forced _ herself to think before she spoke.

“You were at the Saucer a lot, Arnor.” She said finally. “Did you ever see my friend with Baron Rougecarpe? Her name was Amandine. She was tall, with hair like honey and dark brown eyes.” No frills to her question. Just straight and to the point.

“Nope.” Arnor spat, “Why aint ya askin Bricey ‘imself? He be tha one chasin’ doves.”

“Well, it’s just that I’zuna seems so close to him…” She shrugged,

“What?” Arnor snapped his head up, “ _ Close _ to ‘im. Nay. He just be  _ in playing the cards. In the business _ .”

“And what business would that be?” Hemmet asked suddenly, eyes brightening as the smuggler’s words piqued his curiosity.

“Overland travel for Eorzean citizens.” Pascalle repeated Rougecarpe’s description of his job, narrowing his eyes at Arnor who didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“That aint me deck, Hemmet. And ye know it. I don’t be tradin’ in bodies. I trade drugs and good times. But I’zuna… well you an I both be knowin’ I’zuna trades in  _ anything _ .”

Hemmet scowled,

“You’ll do anything for some coin and anything to keep the heat of your back. You’re a right bilgerat, Arny.” The Sergeant said it with such vitriol.

_ These two obviously have some history _ . Pascalle thought. Although he couldn’t say that he disagreed with Hemmet’s observation about the self-styled  _ Lord Arnor _ .

“We’re not going to get much out of him.” He shook his head, turning his back to Arnor, (who was chuckling to himself as if there was something humorous at all about his current situation.) “But if this Rougecorpe fellow has connections to the underworld.”

“Rougecarpe.” Nasrinne corrected him again,

“Right, Rougecarpe. If this fellow has connections to the underworld, and you think he had something to do with Amandine… perhaps it’s worth re-opening her case…”

“Really?” She grinned, unable to contain her enthusiasm. 

“Let’s head back to my office.” He said, offering Nasrinne his arm once more. Pas tried to keep his frown from becoming cavernous.

“Dubois,” He called Pascalle as he turned to leave, “That is your name, right?”

“What of it?”

“Traffic drugs and fence goods, it be true, that’s me trade. But tha fiends Fabrice played with… dealin in cargo that I never aint touch. No matter how  _ Hemmy _ be paintin’ it.”

“What are you saying, Arnor?” He narrowed his eyes, “Spit it out.”

“I’m telling ya. Dont be trustin’ everything tha Sergeant tells ye.” There was a fierce earnestness in the pirate’s gaze that took him by surprise.

“Pas?” Nasrinne called from down the corridor.

“Coming…” He replied over his shoulder, sparing a last look toward the shackled man. “I would wish the Fury’s mercy for you, but if what I’ve uncovered here is anything to go by, I doubt her grace extends into the borders of Thanalan.”

“Don’t be worrying yer pretty head on my account, Dubois.” Arnor replied with a cagey smile, “Whatever you and ye fiery bard stumbled into, it’s much more trouble than I’ll have to deal with.”

Back in Hemmet’s office, the Sergeant broached a suggestion that well, only seemed to loan Arnor’s parting advice more weight. 

The idea that the  _ three _ of  _ them _ pay a return visit to the Violet Lounge and see if they could catch either I’zuna or Fabrice to ask them a few more questions. Why would he allow them to be involved at all? It was, well… too good to be true. At least that’s how Pascalle felt in his gut.

It seemed his uncertainty was showing, because Hemmet looked him straight in the eyes, face solemn.

“Don’t worry, if things turn ugly, this time you’ll be well equipped. We’ll put it on the books as a leve, that way we can have your gear secured there ahead of time.”

“Even my bow?” Nasrinne asked surprised,

“Lady Nasrinne, if what I’ve heard recounted about your scuffle with I’zuna is anything to go by, you’re more than capable of coming along to provide support… think of yourself as an adventurer for an afternoon. Besides, I’m sure your observations will prove invaluable. Isn’t that right Ser Pascalle? Didn’t you say she picked the belladonna out of that drink?”

“She did.” Pascalle cleared his throat, neglecting to add the fact that she had confessed to using it herself in her youth.

Hemmet gave Nasrinne a wry grin,

“Now that is the sort of attention to detail that the Flames need…” He said as he tapped his pen against his pad.

\----

**_Airship Landing; Ul’dah_ **

Nasrinne insisted that she was fine, and so it was agreed that they’d meet at the half-sun bell. That was more than enough time to draw up the leve and get their gear.

“Are you sure?” Pascalle asked her again as they waited for Hemmet aboard the Flame’s private airship.

“Honestly, I feel right as rain!” She said to him with a grin, “Anyway, I can’t sit about if I’zuna and Arnor are somehow muddled up with Amandine. Baron Rougecarpe could be in danger, and no matter what his other crimes… I hardly want to tell Jhuls  _ another _ of the missing Ishgardians has turned up as a dead body.”

“Point taken.” He agreed with a reluctant nod. “Although, just… remember what we spoke about before.” He lowered his voice, watching as Nasrinne’s eyes grew serious.

“You’re right. Even if the warning did come from a self-proclaimed pirate-lord. It’s better to keep an open mind about everything. I’ll keep my eyes out for  _ everyone’s _ suspicious behaviour.” She whispered back, watching as Hemmet gave the order to pull out once he was aboard.

“We’ll keep the ship on standby. Just in case we need to call for back up in a hurry.” He told them as he approached where they stood by the bow, “I’ve got one of my officers in there already, but we’d better be safe, rather than sorry.”

The ship at the Flame’s disposal travelled a lot faster than the passenger ships that ferried patrons to the Gold Saucer. It reminded Nasrinne a little of Tristione’s merchant ship, albeit, more equipped for military excursions than ferrying hay and vegetables.

Nasrinne didn’t feel quite so nervous as she stepped into the Saucer’s grand entrance hall once more. She wasn’t sure if that was because she was wearing a much more comfortable pair of boots, or if Pascalle’s shirt collar was much higher than it had been.  _ Probably a happy combination of both _ , she thought to herself, stealing a sidelong glance at the knight in his armoured coat.

They were almost at the counter when Hemmet stopped suddenly, pressing a finger to his ear.

“Say what?” His voice pitched in alarm, causing everyone to turn to look at him. (Even the Viera escorts.) The Sergeant glanced up toward Nasrinne first, and then Pascalle. “We’ve got to turn around.” He said. “Word is they just got on a ship bound for Ul’dah.”

“ _ They _ ?” Pascalle asked curiously.

“The both of them. Rougecorpe and I’zuna.” He said, turning to hurry back toward the airship they had just stepped off. Nasrinne didn’t bother to correct him this time, considering the urgency of the situation.

Hemmet’s man undercover met them at the dock. The Lalafell saluted him as he approached, that was the only reason either of them realised he was the officer the Sergeant had spoken of.

“Tailed them to the ticket gates, Ser. Then they hopped aboard that one there.”

“We’ll cut them off in Ul’dah.” Hemmet said after looking around, “Crews already pulling up the rigging, if we try and get to the other side of the landing now, we’ll just end up standing like a bunch of gobys while it pulls away. Come on.” He gestured for them to follow him back up the plank.

The airship landing was crowded as they disembarked back in Ul’dah, plenty of passengers, coming and going. Which wasn’t unusual for early evening in the city.

“Lucky you kept our ship on standby.” Nasrinne murmured to Hemmet as the three of them stood, surveying the throng for a glimpse of the Miqo’te and Baron Rougecarpe. 

“We should have beaten them by at least a quarter bell.” Hemmet replied, his tawny eyes fixed on the ships still approaching in the sky. “That one with the cactuar on the stern.” His palm clapped over her shoulder, directing her gaze with the pointer finger of his other hand. (The Sergeant’s grasped lingered there for perhaps a half-second longer than was proper.)

Pascalle’s eyes flicked from Hemmet’s hand, resting on Nasrinne’s shoulder to the direction he pointed and back again.

_ Envy is the art of counting another man’s blessings rather than your own, Pas _ . His mother’s words to him as a boy came to mind like a gentle reprimand.  _ If only father listened to her wisdom _ , he thought as he put the twinge of jealousy to the back of his mind to focus on the task at hand.

“Perhaps we should think about how to position ourselves to best cut them off before they can make it out of the gates?” Nasrinne turned to look up at Pascalle as she spoke, banishing all his unpleasant thoughts with one of her crooked smiles. “You’ll be able to spot them first, Pas.”

He returned Nasrinne’s smile with one of his own, standing to his full height (making him a good foot taller than Hemmet.)

“I  _ should _ be able to spot anyone coming from this direction, though I’d be hard pressed to catch up if they see me first.” The gaudy cactuar ship was close to docking by now, the deckhands calling out and starting to handle the rigging. “Make sure you stay in my eye line.” He turned his attention to Hemmet, tension rising slightly in his voice. “You best get ready.”

“Aye, Ser Pascalle.” Hemmet gave him a nod before turning back to Nasrinne. “You take the left; I’ll take the right.” Then the Sergeant moved away from them, walking closer to the ship.

She offered Pascalle a haphazard little shrug before stepping into the crowd, weaving her way through the masses of passengers across to the far side of the landing. The gangplank began to lower once she found herself a good spot. Ship captains and ticket officers were calling out passengers names, departure times, arrivals. Bits and pieces of excited conversation from travellers and their loved ones buzzing around her, then;  _ Thunk _ . The plank was down.

Travellers began to disembark in disorderly lines, dressed in their elaborate finery. They strolled across the length of thick wood. This was a far finer airship than the one they had travelled upon when they returned from the Saucer with I’zuna and Arnor but a few nights before. But no doubt Baron Rougecarpre could command a position on a private vessel such as this, as a ranking member of Ishgard’s nobility.

Yet there was no sign of him, or I’zuna that she could see amongst this first congregation to trickle through. Nasrinne frowned to herself, glancing over toward Pascalle, who had a clear sight of the walkway. Hemmet’s eyes were looking his way too, pressing a finger to his ear while he muttered something indiscernible into his linkpearl. Requesting extra eyes from the Flames? She wondered.

Pascalle hovered a few steps out of sight of the approaching passengers, he caught Nasrinne’s eyes, peeping at him from over the shoulders of the crowd around her. He had to swallow a smile, reminding himself he wasn’t here to look at Nasrinne. (No matter how enchanting he thought she was.) He pulled his gaze from her’s. Hemmet was looking his way too it seemed. Well if they were both looking to him for a signal, then neither of them had seen any sign of them yet either. 

The last group of stragglers began to amble off the ship. An all-male, a group of Lalafell;  _ look like monetarists, or close to the sort _ , Pas thought to himself. A few Hyur, and some Elezen. A few Miqo’te dancers. But no sign of I’zuna, or Fabrice. He started looking for other signs, hooded robes, ridiculous hats… but there was nothing like that amongst the disembarking passengers.  _ Disguised as part of the crew? _ His mind raced, searching for a possibility. As the last few faces filed passed him, it seemed less and less likely they’d catch them in the crowd. He looked back at Hemmet, the two sharing a slight shake of their head as if to confirm this thought with one another.

Nasrinne watched the two of them share this unspoken agreement. Hemmet still had his finger pressed to his linkpearl. She bit her lip for a moment. Then; without bothering with any sly glances or furtive bobbing and shaking of her head, she marched over to the crewman standing next to the cleat on the landing closest to her. A rRedagyn with a crop of tight, fiery red braids.

“Excuse me, Ser.” She said with a bright smile, fluttering her eyelashes as innocently as possible. “I was hoping to surprise someone I heard was coming back from the Saucer aboard this vessel. Have you a ship’s manifest by any chance, so I can see if I’ve missed them?”

Pascalle watched her from where he stood on the opposite side of the decking,

“ _ What is she doing? _ ” He murmured under his breath, his eyes darting toward Hemmet to gauge the Sergeant’s reaction. He was already looking toward him, eyes widening in alarm, clearly concerned by this spontaneous decision of hers.

He shook his head, a silent plea to wait. But Hemmet was already off. There was nothing for it. Pascalle’s long legs covered the distance between the two of them far more swiftly than Hemmet could cross the whole landing. He slapped a hand on the midlander’s shoulder, stopping him mid stride.

“Hemmet, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I have those reports you were after!” It was a lie, and perhaps he oversold it slightly, but it was enough to stop the man. “ _ She’s got this under control, _ ” He murmured low beneath his breath so that only the Sergeant would hear, “ _ don’t interrupt her now.” _

The Sergeant hid his frown from everyone but Pascalle; clearly displeased at being stopped by him, but also unwilling to cause an altercation that might endanger their plans further.

“You put a lot of faith in her, Ser Pascalle, considering she’s  _ just _ a noble’s daughter.” Hemmet gave a slight shake of his head.

_ Just a noble’s daughter? _ He had to keep the indignation from showing on his face. Nasrinne had shown herself capable and intelligent in every aspect of their investigation so far. She had known that there was something amiss with the Saucer being left off of the reports, and she had rightly judged that Fabrice would be there. And who knows what would have happened if she didn’t warn him off the Belladonna.

But Hemmet didn’t know any better, they didn’t want him to know any better. He let his lips crack into an easy-going smile,

“Who better to use their alluring charm than a noble’s daughter?”

“As long as she  _ does _ have it under control…” He sounded slightly more sour than one might expect after the way he’d praised Nasrinne’s abilities the day before. Pascalle found himself wondering if it frustrated Nasrinne, to be so consistently overlooked and underestimated by people.

He watched the conversation playing out over the top of Hemmet’s head. The Roedagyn was tugging at his collar. Pascalle knew that feeling all too well, the sudden rush of heat that overcame you when those deep, cobalt eyes were gazing up at you, half-lidded.  _ Uh… well… _ The Roedagyn was saying,  _ we’re not really supposed to do that _ . He couldn’t hear him; he could just tell from the body language. And there was Nasrinne, smiling up at him so prettily, batting those long, dark lashes, head lilting ever so lightly to the left.  _ I won’t tell if you won’t _ . She would be saying to him. He watched her seal the deal with a wink. The crewman was turning, dashing up the plank.

“Didn’t know what him…” Pascalle murmured, unable to keep the smirk from his lips, “See?” Perhaps it was a bit smug of him, but he couldn’t help but feel pleased as punch to see her prove Hemmet wrong.

Nasrinne could hear Ygrinne’s gasp of disapproval ringing in her ears from all the way in Coerthas. At least that’s what she imagined as she watched the Roedagyn head back aboard the airship to speak with his Captain for her. She glanced back to see where Pascalle and Hemmet were, they were about halfway across the landing, speaking to one another. A few ticks later, the crewman reappeared, jogging back down the gangway with even more vigour than before. She moved up the plank to meet him.

“Sorry, lass…” He said as he drew closer to her, “We’ve got uh… well we need to make a report to the flames about some… about an urgent matter. It unfortunately takes precedence over your uh… your surprise…”

“Urgent matter?” She lofted a brow, glancing back toward Pascalle and Hemmet to see if she could signal to them.

Pascalle caught it.

“We should go to her.” He said, not even waiting to hear Hemmet’s opinion on the matter.

“What are you doing?” Hemmet hissed, “You two are going to blow this whole bloody operation with these half-cocked decisions…”

He didn’t bother to slow his pace, reaching Nasrinne just in time to hear the Roedagyn utter the words  _ urgent matter to report to the flames _ .

Hemmet, who had only been a half-pace behind him, immediately marched up to the crewman.

“Sergeant Hemmet, Wolf of the Immortal Flames.” He introduced himself, producing his identification and badge for the man, “What exactly is it you need to report?” The question was direct, authoritative. More like a demand.

“Ah. Yes… you see,” Nasrinne said, her smile a touch chagrin, “You see, I wasn’t the only person hoping to surprise them…”

“Well perhaps you’d best come aboard.” He nodded to them, turning to lead them onto the ship.

“Right.” Nasrinne said, but before she could take another step, Hemmet’s hand was upon her shoulder again.

“Now Naz.” He said, “This might not have anything to do with why you’re here. And you’re not a card-carrying member of any Grand Company or order of guards.”

She pursed her lips,

“Do you really think it wouldn’t be? Well, I suppose…” She agreed reluctantly, giving a little sigh as her eyes flickered over toward Pascale. “Though, Ser Pascalle is a Temple Knight. I’m sure it won’t hurt your professional reputation if a fellow man of the law accompanies you… Just in case it is to do with why we’re here?” She did a marvellous job of delivering this stroke of genius, her voice innocent and eyes wide.

Hemmet begrudgingly agreed,

“Lead on, Ser.” Pascalle gestured for him to follow Thorvaesch first, giving Nasrinne a sidelong glance. One that told her she might  _ try _ follow them, if she  _ wanted _ to.


	2. Chapter 2

She had hardly needed that glance. Offering him a wink as he departed behind Hemmet. The Roedagyn was already waiting upon the deck. Watching as the three of them followed him up, Nasrinne just under a yalm shy of the other two. He gestured they should follow quickly, and as he turned, Nasrinne arced wide across the deck behind them; toward the mast where the Captain stood. (She could tell he was the captain for her wore a handsome tricone hat.) He was a Hyur who was a good deal shorter than his crewman. She watched as Hemmet once again made his introduction, using the long afternoon shadows cast by the sail above her to conceal herself as she listened.

“…the flames were already present at the landing, Captain. This is Sergeant Hemmet.” The Roe was saying.

“Vilbrad Winstrom.” The Captain introduced himself, “Traggot, head below decks and let Fesho know we’re on the way. I’ll brief the guard.”

Nasrinne fell in step with Traggort as he departed, smiling up at him. He gave her a nod, gesturing for her to head down the stairs, although she noticed his smile was grim. He knocked on one of the doors at the end of the hallway. A jaunty little tune filtered out from the crack beneath it. The orchestrion inside was playing.

“Fesho, it’s the guard.” He said,

“Let them in then.” Came the muffled voice. Traggort turned the brass handle and swung it inward. He stayed, holding it open, looking up to where the sound of armoured boots could be heard clunking down the stairs. Nasrinne muttered a quick prayer to Halone, under her breath. (And any other of the twelve who might feel inclined to give her a blessing.) Then she pressed herself into the gap between the door and the wall and waited.

“…this is  _ my _ ship, Sergeant.” She could hear the Captain’s voice explaining, “This has been a regular contract for two years, with never an incident, even of minor offense…”

“I understand you’re trying to impress the good standing you have upon me, Captain Winstrom, but it’s all a matter of what you have to report.”

“Well you can see for yourself, Tragg, Fesho. We’ll leave them be.”

“I have almost finished the ship’s report, Captain.”

“Very well.” Winstrom’s voice said.

“What happened to the pretty young lass?” Traggort asked,

_ Shit. _ Nasrinne thought.

“Never mind that one, I told her to leave.” Hemmet said to the Roe curtly.

“Oh.” Traggort sounded a touch confused, but he didn’t press it.

“Fesho is the ship’s doctor, he won’t disturb your work.” Winstrom explained. She listened to the pair of footsteps pass her. Squeezing her eyes shut with another silent prayer to every God whose name she could remember.

“ _ Rhalgr’s Breath _ …” Hemmet exclaimed in a low voice. “This is…”

Nasrinne hadn’t had a chance to see the room. She had so far only seen the back of the door. But now Traggort closed it behind Hemmet and Pascalle and the full degree of the situation that had come to pass inside the private cabin was revealed to all of them.

Her eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from gasping aloud.

_ Blood. _ It was everywhere. Bloody handprints smeared across the lacquered tops of tables, soaking into the pale, cream cushions of the couch. Pooling on the rug and across the coffee table. There were some upturned chairs, a few broken bottles… and right in the middle of it was Fabrice.

As Hemmet and Pascalle stepped deeper into the carnage, she slunk along the wall, over toward the small, curved bar in the corner of the room. The song of the orchestrion twittering out from behind it.

“There was a struggle out here.” Pascalle murmured. He felt his stomach turn over as he knelt beside the Baron. His throat had been slit. A wide, ugly gash across his pale neck. A terrified grimace fixed, forever, upon his lips. At least now that the rigamortis had started to set in. His cravat and the front of his coat were soaked in blood.

“There’s another in the washroom…” Fesho said to them gingerly, “We had to force the lock…” He was a small, dark-haired Lalafell. He gave a nod across the room to where a white door sat slightly ajar, inlaid with handsome golden trim; and recently spattered in crimson.

He stood up, following alongside Hemmet, who looked more than a little surprised to hear there was a second victim in the room. (Nasrinne was too. Listening in from where she hid. If Fabrice was dead, wouldn’t it have been I’zuna who did it? She  _ was _ supposed to be working with Lord Arnor…)

“ _ Gods… Seven Hells… _ ” The Sergeant sounded shaken, Pascalle looked past him into the ornately tiled and fitted washroom.

It was I’zuna. Though it was difficult to recognise her. Her silken robed were slashed and torn, her fur matted scarlet.

“ _ Shit _ .” Pascalle cursed. (It was the tone that let Nasrinne know what he was seeing. Both of their leads, turning up dead. But how?)

“She bled out in there I reckon…” The Lalafell said from where he stood at Pascalle’s knees. “I didn’t count them fully, Sers, I’m sorry. But at a glance it was at least ten lacerations…”

The Sergeant had grown pale. He stood for a long moment; frozen, still as a statue. Then he ran a trembling hand through his sandy hair and looked away from where I’zuna lay with another murmured curse. Pascalle watched him as he set his jaw, pressing a finger to his linkpearl once more.

“Flame’s Command, this is Sergeant Hemmet at the airship landing. Send a full squad down…” He gave Pascalle a nod, gesturing that he was going to step out and report the details of the crime, Pascalle returned it holding up a finger to let him know he’d join him in a moment. Fesho followed him out the door, presumably to hand over the report.

“ _ Pascalle _ .” He heard her whisper just as the door swung closed behind them.

“Nasrinne?” He turned, to see her rising from her hiding spot behind the cabin’s bar, a mixture of shock and admiration momentarily flashing across his face. “I half expected it, but still… how did you?” He didn’t finish the question, because of course she knew what he meant and he was more than a little stunned at how easily she’d slipped past them.

“Oh, it wasn’t hard to hide in front of the big Roe on the way down the stairs so you two couldn’t see me.” She gave a shrug, “Then I just hid behind the door. There was enough going on in here for me to slip behind the bar before either of you turned back this way.”

“Well, colour me impressed.” He gave a slight shake of his head, “You’re full of a lot of surprises for someone who’s supposed to be just a noble’s daughter.” Choosing to echo Hemmet’s earlier words in praise, rather than denigration.

“Well. you don’t break in chocobos for House Fortemps, and hunt rabbits all summer with your brother, without learning a few things about making yourself small and being light on your feet.” She sighed after she said it, her frown deepening as she pondered whether or not he’d agree to what she was about to suggest.  _ Damn it _ . She lamented.  _ If only I hadn’t been stabbed _ .

“I think we need to take a really good look around this crime scene.  _ Without _ Hemmet hovering over our shoulder.” She just said it. No point beating around the bush. Nasrinne paused as she stepped around the bar, continuing to explain her reasons before he could simply say  _ no _ . “It’s not that I suspect any of the ship’s men… or even that I suspect Hemmet… but. This is too convenient.” She shook her head. “If you can get Hemmet to forget about me… convince him I’ve probably gone back to the apartment or to wait at Mintori’s shop or something…” She spread her hands in front of her haplessly, “Just buy me the time between now and when those guard’s Hemmet called arrive. Just enough time to look at the finer details... It would let us know if they do leave anything out in the reports. I promise, I’ll be out of here before they make it onto the deck…”

“You’re right.” Pascalle’s eyes flickered back toward the doorway. It still seemed clear, “You’re right. We need to know everything that happened here. Not some washed down report from Hemmet.” He turned back toward, speaking somewhat reluctantly. “I don’t like this, but I trust  _ you _ .” The reality of what they were standing amidst was finally sinking in. He didn’t like the idea of Nasrinne down here alone, but what else was there to do? His eyes locked onto hers, before darting down to where he knew the still-fresh-enough wound lay beneath her armour. “Find what you can and get out. I’ll keep them occupied.” Then, quite impulsively, he reached forward and gave her hand a quick squeeze, turning before he had time to catch the expression on her face in his haste to catch up to Hemmet. Also, because he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.  _ Pascalle _ .  _ It’s a bloodbath in that room. _ He lectured himself as he emerged onto the deck. Hemmet was standing near the gangway, just by the railing. He was holding the medical report, but he wasn’t looking at it. The blood was still drained from his face.

The only way a Sergeant of one of the grand companies would be this rattled by a murder scene, as gruesome as it was, was if it was hitting a little too close to home. At least that’s how Pascalle felt in his gut as he looked at him. Hemmet would have dealt with scenes like this plenty of times before.

“Have you men scouting the area yet, Sergeant?” He asked, coming to a stop next to him. Staring down at the considerably shorter Hyur. “Shouldn’t we be searching for the perpetrator?” He asked his questions in quick succession, without waiting for the answers, his tone direct.

The Sergeant looked rattled by the sudden grilling at first. But the startled and confused expression he’d been wearing when the knight approached soon began to fade and his eyes grew hard.

“Calm down, Ser Pascalle.” He said, holding up a hand. “Reinforcements are already on the way, but we’ve yet to even get a description of the perp yet.” He clucked his tongue, regaining his cocksure composure. “What’s the matter? Did the sight shake you? I suppose when it’s dragon’s fire it doesn’t leave a lot behind. But I’m sure you saw your fair share of blood and guts in Gyr Abania.” Hemmet gave a smile that could have been a sneer, at first. But then it settled into something of a more serious look. “Perhaps you should go find Lady Nasrinne and head home? It looks like she got bored of waiting and wandered off.”

Pascalle didn’t let Hemmet’s attempt to goad him get the better of him. Yes, the scene below deck was not pretty, and honestly the sight of poor Fabrice and I’zuna did put a knot in his stomach, but the Sergeant was right. Pascalle had seen worse. Much worse. And he wasn’t the one who was feeling anxious. That seemed to be Hemmet.

“I’ve already told Lady Nasrinne to wait for me outside the landing.” He replied smoothly, his tone still sharp. Then he closed his eyes, drawing a breath, then he stepped forward, narrowing his eyes, looming over the Sergeant. “Has too long in the Ul’dah heat toasted your head, Hemmet. Or are you just daft.” He spoke as if he was training a squire, with all the authority he could muster (even if he had none here.) “Fabrice was an Ishgard citizen. As a Temple Knight, I’m well within my rights to question how you’re going to handle this  _ latest _ investigation of relevance to the Holy See.” He snatched the report from his hands.

It looked for a moment as if Hemmet had indeed forgotten that Pascalle was a Temple Knight as the Elezen towered over him.

“Reinforcements are already on the way to cordon off the area…” He mumbled, watching as he began to look over the report. “Not that it matters. The bird has already flown the coop, haven’t they? We stood on there till every last passenger disembarked. I’ve already asked for the manifest from Captain Winstrom, he has gone to fetch it.” Hemmet cleared his throat, looking around again, his own eyes narrowed at the near-empty airship landing.

“Obviously I’ll forward a full report to the Temple Knights. You don’t have to be concerned about that, Ser Pascalle…” He trailed off, a frown settling deep upon his face, he had the look of a troubled man.

“I could use a copy of the report you send to the Temple Knights.” It was nearly an order.

“I’d be happy to pass a copy to you as well, Ser Pascalle, should the Holy See authorise it, you are off duty at the moment aren’t you?”

“A Temple Knight of Ishgard is  _ always _ on duty.” Came the terse reply.

“Of course.” The Sergeant agreed automatically, then he paused a moment, his eyes locking onto his face, “Dubois, isn’t that your family name?” He asked suddenly.

It was funny, Arnor had asked him something similar in the cell.

“Is that quite a common name in Ishgard? Is uh, Rougecorpe? I know Filois isn’t…” Hemmet continued, shaking his head, holding out a hand as if silencing himself, “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s not the sun, maybe the plan turning so grisly has me a bit muddled. I’ll need to look further into things if the Baron was related to Nasrinne’s friend somehow, Lenincourt was it? Noble lines of Ishgard are not my speciality. I was just working through some preliminary thoughts as to how I might start mapping out connections. A unique family name can sometimes make that easier...” He chuckled apologetically, though his smile was as weak as his excuse.

“Amandine Lanencourt.” Pascalle corrected him as he looked back down at the medical report, flipping over to the second page. “This will be included, I presume?” he said, handing it back as he looked out over the Sergeant's shoulder for even just a glimpse of Nasrinne.  _ Damnit, she’s a shadow. She better be long gone by now. _ His gaze must have lingered a little too long, as Hemmet looked back over his shoulder, following Pascalle’s gaze. 

“Did you see something?” he turned back with a puzzled expression and a quirked brow.

Pas waved him off. “No, nothing.” His eyes locked onto Hemmet’s. Hopefully he had bought her enough time, but he couldn’t help but worry.

\----

Nasrinne’s hand burned for a moment as she watched Pascalle rush through the door after Hemmet and the crew. She drew a shaky breath. The truth was, she’d been managing alright with the scene (murder scenes and battlefields don’t really look that much different, after all.)

But now she felt her knees tremble for an altogether inappropriate reason.

She realised she’d forgotten to tell Pascalle to make sure he got a good look at Fesho’s report so they could compare them. He would probably think of that though. Pascalle was smart. Smart and dreamy, and this was not the time.

“Get it together, Nasrinne.” She hissed at herself through her clenched teeth. Then she pulled her little songbook out from where she always kept it in her pocket, and thumbed to a new page. The moment the crisp sheet of blank cream was open in front of her, she did, infact get it together. Diligently recording everything she saw. There were three glasses of wine poured. She stooped down near the corpse of Fabrice. Poor Fabrice. Whatever he was, he probably didn’t deserve to have his throat slit… from behind it looked like. At least to her. Something about the expression of pure surprise his face was frozen in.

He was missing his family crest from his jacket, and the ring he’d worn on his pinky finger. She hummed over this; all the other jewels were there. So, they were hardly the victim of a bandit strapped for cash.

I’zuna was a different matter. It was obvious that she’d put up much more of a struggle.

A lump that Nasrinne hadn’t expected rose in her throat. If she had never met I’zuna that day at the Saucer. If fate had booked her a different matinee. The Sun’s Mirage might still be dancing in the Violet Lounge tomorrow. But Nasrinne had met I’zuna. And Fabrice.

And now they were dead.

“I know I said you weren’t nice…” She said, quite redundantly to the departed Miqo’te as she forced herself to count the wounds as the Lalafell doctor had. “But… I never meant for this to happen to you…”

_ Sixteen _ . She wrote in her book as she rose to her full height once more. There were some on the hands that the Lalafell had missed.

She looked up at the door. There were scuff marks around the knob, chips of wood missing. She  _ had _ come in here to try and hide out. But the amount of blood in here and out there… whoever it was had gotten in after her to finish the job. She looked around the small, windowless room. Well they had to have gotten out the same way they came in. Which meant I’zuna didn’t bleed out here. She was already dead when whoever killed her left. They just locked the door behind them, perhaps to make it look like a scuffle between I’zuna and Fabrice?

She didn’t have time to puzzle over it here. She had to get off the ship before Hemmet found her.

The reinforcements were passing through the landing gates as Nasrinne slipped her way up the stairs quickly. Pascalle had the report from the doctor in his hands. Good. She thought as she watched him loom over Hemmet. He looked terribly intimidating, a glare in his eyes as bright as the sun on the snow. Hemmet looked… not just intimidated. She pursed her lips,  _ remorseful _ ?

“Strange.” She whispered beneath her breath as she ducked behind the swell of a sail. There wasn’t another gangway for passengers. But there were some smaller planks for the crewman who tied off the rigging that were still out. She crept to the furthest one, keeping her eyes on the Sergeant, Pas, and the approaching officers. If she moved quick and low, she assumed she’d be able to avoid being spotted. Once she was back on the landing, she could probably just wait behind some of the crates of cargo sitting about until they were all aboard the ship and then just… well walk out hopefully. With Pascalle not far behind her.

She watched from the gap between two barrels of pickled cabbage. The smell was not pleasant, but it was the best she’d been able to manage if she wanted to stick close to cover. Her eyes broke away from the scene on the airship to scan the landing for the men they had travelled to the Saucer with. They had travelled to the saucer with a ship full of Flames, where had those soldier’s all gotten to? She pursed her lips, she’d been so distracted playing at adventurer that she hadn’t bothered to suggest Hemmet requisition them to help search for Fabrice and I’zuna. Still, there was enough of a distraction happening now for her to make it to the ticket gates and out the other side.

She eased her way out of her hiding spot and walked at a steady, even pace toward the landing’s exit. The key to not being seen was to act like you could be seen, and it didn’t matter… It wasn’t just sounds and gestures that alerted others to your presence, it was also the atmosphere, the aura you gave off doing the thing you didn’t want others to see. People overlooked the normal and the mundane, so as long as you tried to appear as if you were of the normal and mundane, people would overlook you.

She passed through the ticket gates into the city proper, and then finally spared another backward glance toward the airship. Looking to see if Pascalle was still speaking with the Sergeant, or if he was already on his way to her.

\----

Pascalle followed behind Hemmet as he led the way to meet the approaching contingent.

“Anyway, I’ll keep you appraised, but you’ve no doubt well earned your break, Ser Pascalle. I’m sure the death of a fellow citizen weighs heavy on a Temple Knight’s heart, but the Sultanate takes it cooperation with the Holy See seriously. The flames will have this investigation well in hand…”

“Well, I’ll be following it up with you personally.” Pascalle replied, perhaps with a touch more rancour than was really necessary.

“Red Gorge!” Hemmet yelled to the Roedagyn leading the way. “Take your Privates down below deck and start gathering evidence. J’ostalla, you and the other Officers start questioning the crew…” Hemmet turned back toward Pascalle,

“I’ll wait to hear from you then.”

“Tomorrow.” He replied sharply, “I’ll be following it up with you then.” He wasn’t exactly certain if he  _ was _ going to be doing that, but it didn’t hurt for the Sergeant to think he would. Then he turned on his heel and strode down the gangway. He felt confident he must have bought Nasrinne enough time by now, his eyes searching for a sign of her as neared the gates. He spotted her on the other side of them, a smile broaching his lips.

Her own lips twitched upwards as she watched him walk toward her. A combination of the way the afternoon sun crested his silvery hair like a halo, she decided, and the fact that they had thoroughly gotten the better of Hemmet.

“Well you  _ certainly _ kept him busy. I’m surprised he wasn’t literally shaking in his boots, Pas. Is that what they teach you in the Temple Knights? Jhuls has never looked half as impressive.” She said to him wryly.

She was surprised to see the subtle tinge of pink colouring his cheeks as he cast a sidelong glance toward the sandstone beneath his feet.

“I only did what needed to be done.” He murmured. “It’s nothing I’m proud of.”

Nasrinne tilted her head slightly as she examined him. Had she offended him somehow? Well that would need to be a question for another time. She bit her bottom lip, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder.

“We shouldn’t talk here.” She said, “Let’s head back to the apartment.”

It was difficult not to say anything as they walked together in silence. How it was all terrible, and somehow suspicious, and wasn’t Hemmet acting a bit strange? Still, she held her tongue until they were safely behind their front door. Only then did she risk saying the thing she had been holding in ever since the moment she walked up to chat to the roegadyn shipmate.

“Do you think something’s off with Hemmet? I mean really off?” The words burst out of her, and she realised for the first time she was quite angry at the turn of events. She was just in the midst of deciding who she should be angry with, Hemmet, or herself. “I know that none of us should have expected that, but I was watching him from the shadows. His face didn’t grow pale until he saw I’zuna… and… I don’t know. I know he said that he was just trying to work her for leads on Arnor, and she was trying to play him… but… oh. Damn it, Pas. It’s too convenient. All of it.” She sighed as she finished speaking.

“He’s a bought man.” Pas blurted the words out, pacing back and forth near the door.

“But who’s bought him?” Nasrinne asked, very seriously. “Even if Fabrice was involved in something criminal, Amandine certainly wasn’t. She was just a kept noble girl... with perhaps too keen an interest in the opposite sex.” Amandine  _ had _ more than a keen interest in men. Still, it didn’t feel right to just come out and say that about a dead woman. Even if it was a dead woman who had told her that her face looked like a moon once.

“I’ll contact the Temple Knights to make sure he reports this.” He stopped in his tracks, a question he wasn’t sure the answer to digging in his mind. “I told him I’d be there tomorrow to follow this up, do you think it’s a good idea? On one hand we’ll know for sure if he’s dirty. Not that I have many doubts about that.” Pas let out a long sigh. “But on the other hand, if he does report it and follow due diligence… well, then we’re just harassing a man trying to do his job.”

“If he was a man doing his job, he would have never invited us along today.” She shook her head, “I’m not sure you should follow it up tomorrow either.” Nasrinne sucked her teeth as she pondered their problem,

“He certainly wouldn’t have.” Pascalle agreed with her,

“And he should have had his men from the airship assist us… they were with us the whole trip to the Saucer and back. I vaguely even remember overhearing him tell them to stand at the ready as we disembark. But they vanished…” She frowned as she recalled this fact again, “I didn’t think of it until after when I saw the reinforcements arrive. We need to watch him…” She said, “If someone has bought Hemmet’s loyalty over these murders, we need to know who it is. Keeping a close eye on him is our best chance of finding out.”

Pascalle was drumming in fingers along the desk as he spoke.

“He’s already unreceptive to me prodding him.” He leaned forward with arms outstretched on the table; his head bowed down in frustration. “And I don’t expect he’ll give up  _ that _ information willingly.” A long sigh left his lips as he stood up and stretched out his back. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it wasn’t the carnage below decks that terrified him to his core like that.”

“I think he was expecting Fabrice to turn up dead.” She closed her eyes, pincing the bridge of her nose. Well aware of what she was implying, without a whit of evidence to back it up. “It was I’zuna who rattled him. He didn’t expect her to be there… I am sure the plan was to pin Fabrice’s murder on her and Arnor...” That’s what it felt like in her gut every time she remembered the expression on the Sergeant’s face after they’d found the Miqo’te.

_ It was I’zuna who rattled him. _ Her words were like a bell, ringing suddenly in his mind.

“What?” Pascalle drew in a sharp breath, a look of realisation crossing his face. “Of course!” He exclaimed, “I had my suspicions… I just couldn’t piece it together.” Then realisation faded into an expression more like admiration, “Nasrinne, you’re sharp as a whip.” 

His fingers struck up their drumming again.

“How are we to go about watching him? You’re basically a shadow but I’m not sure I have the grace or dexterity to pull off the same.” He said, his laughter a touch chagrin.

“It might be better if neither of us were the one’s watching him. He might be a little wiser to our game than we first imagined.” She mused, half-beneath her breath. Then it came to her. “What about your friend Mintori? He seems to know a lot of people. Perhaps he can be of help?”

“Yes. Mintori!” Pascalle slapped the desk, enthusiastically. “That little Lalafell is quite the socialite and a devious little information broker. I for one am very glad he decided to befriend us.” He laughed, a moment ago he had feared they’d hit a dead end. It was nice to remember they had friends to fall back on.

“We’ll have to think of any clever titbits we can offer him to start with…” Nasrinne was pacing now, “I know some of the places he frequents when he is off duty…”

Pascalle thought back to his recent conversation with Hemmet as Nasrinne began to list of facts about the Sergeant which could be helpful to Mintori’s efforts. His fingers still rhythmically tapping on the polished wood of the desk. That’s why a silence seemed to settle in around him when he suddenly stopped.

“You know… Before I put forth my chivalrous attempt to distract Sergeant Hemmet from your… investigating.” Pas swallowed hard. “He did start down a somewhat odd line of questioning...” Pas rubbed his chin as if posing the question to Nasrinne. “He asked me if Dubois was a common name in Ishgard. Something about unique names being easier to trace… but. It was very out of blue…”

“Dubois  _ is _ a fairly common name…” Nasrinne canted her head, “Sounds like he was grasping at straws to keep from speaking about the reality of the situation.”

“Probably exactly right.” Pascalle laughed shaking his head. “Why in hells would my name be relevant to this investigation?” Sometimes the things right in front of you, you don’t want to see. “I must ask, how are you feeling, Nas?” He changed the subject, “That was quite a scene to walk in on.” His expression growing sombre, it wasn’t something anyone should bear witness to. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was part to blame for her seeing it.

She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, watching his smile fade.

“Well, I’m as alright as anyone can be after standing next to a dead body and counting the number of wounds on it and trying to guess the time of death…” She said with a slightly careworn smile of her own. “It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but neither was having to see my friends come back dead after a patrol that went awry. I might not have ever been in the thick of war… but I’ve seen plenty enough what it can do to learn how to keep my stomach, and my sanity…” She looked away again with a small sigh, “I am sorry, though. I want to see justice for them. Fabrice, and I’zuna. Even if she stabbed me. I wouldn’t wish a death that cruel on anyone…” She looked at him seriously, “If we can get to the bottom of Hemmet, perhaps we’ll be a step closer to that.”

“You have a kind soul, Nasrinne.” He said softly. “They deserve justice. We won’t find it for them sitting around. I’ll call Mintori on the linkpearl.” She had quite the resolve and cunning to pull off what she did and come out unrattled, he thought to himself as he looked at her. It was one of the things he found himself attracted to.  _ Though this is hardly the appropriate time to be thinking about that, Pascalle. _ These silent reprimands were becoming all too common.

\----


	3. Chapter 3

**_Gridania; Twelveswood_ **

Nasrinne frowned as she took the linkpearl out of her ear, handing it to Pascalle so he could speak with Jhulayne himself. She couldn’t stand using linkpearls. She hated putting them in her ear, she thought they felt strange and they always made people’s voices sound off. Tinny and sharp. She hated to imagine what her voice must sound like on the other end. And Ygrinne always said they weren’t secure.

He really didn’t know why Nasrinne was bothered by these ingenious little things, he took it from her with a shrug. 

“... _ Paz, can you hear me? _ ” Jhulayne’s voice crackled in his mind, “I’ve had the paper’s sent to Gridania to authorise everything. So you won’t have to worry so much about creeping around. It’s all official with the Adder’s. They’ll be expecting you both at the nest.”

Pascalle’s hand shot up, pressing against his ear as he winced. Jhuls’ voice was  _ painfully _ loud, Even over the drone of the airship’s engines.

“Yes Jhuls. I can hear you. Please though, lower your voice.” It was as if his sentence was just a long sigh in word form.

She turned, waiting patiently for Pascalle to finish his conversation with her brother, resting a hand gently on the railing of the airship’s deck. She could hear the sounds of the deckhands behind her, calling out to each other as they made ready for arrival.

It was a fast ship, it wouldn’t take them too long to reach Gridania now. (She could have taken the aetheryte. But Pascalle couldn’t, he’d never been to the Shroud to attune to the crystal. So, the fast ship had been the next best option.)

She had forgotten how green the Shroud looked from the air. It must have been almost a year since she’d gone there to fetch Jhulayne and bring him home. This time her reasons for travelling there were far less pleasant.

The murder of Fabrice and I’zuna had left all their leads in Ul’dah cold. But Ul’dah wasn’t the only place where people had gone missing. The Shroud had also had its share of Ishgardian citizens vanishing. It was the Shroud where Jhulayne’s investigations had begun, liaising with the young Captain who had been placed in charge of the disappearances. Her name was Cessely, he’d told her. And Cessely had made a report to him; not long after Nasrinne and Pascalle had informed him about Fabrice and I’zuna.

Another of the missing Ishgardians had turned up, dead of course.

Edeonne Gleaneaux.

Edeonne had been one of the last people reported missing in the Shroud. By Nasrinne’s estimates she had disappeared around about the same time as Amandine. A few days before, or after, maybe.But now they’d found her. Or her body at least.  _ Stabbed more times than anyone would care to count _ , was apparently how Captain Cessely had phrased it. The Adders had counted of course. It was in the report that would be waiting for them when they arrived.

This was the first time they’d been able to establish a  _ real _ connection to the slew of disappearances in the Shroud. Eddeone had been murdered, violently, just like Amandine and I’zuna. The other victims from Gridania and thereabouts had all been poisoned. Black Yew according to the reports Cessely had been forwarding to Jhulayne and the Holy See. The only problem of course, was the timeline. Reported missing at the same time as Amandine, but she had only been murdered  _ recently _ .

Fabrice had been hiding out in the Saucer though, which meant Edeonne could have been hiding somewhere too...

“... what if they never left the airship landing through the ticket gate at all.” Finishing her thought aloud, “What if they got on another ship and came  _ here _ ?” She narrowed her eyes at the treeline as she bit her lip.

“Done and dusted? I’m glad to hear we’ll be there in at least some  _ official _ capacity this time.” Pascalle smiled, beaming at Nasrinne, He nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “See Jhuls Even you can do good work when you put your mind to it.” He chuckled quietly, turning to lookout toward the horizon and their destination. This would be the first time Pas had been to Gridania. Green that extended unbroken to the horizon on every side. How he missed Coerthas before the calamity.

“Thanks for the assistance Jhuls. We’ll be in touch soon.” 

If Pascalle was a praying man, he would be praying now this lead didn’t run cold. Edeonne Gleaneaux. I’zuna. Amandine. Fabrice. Who is the fiend that did this to you? Why did they do this to you? It was the only solid lead they'd had since everything went cold in Ul’dah. So why did it make him feel so sick to follow it?

Nasrinne hardly noticed Pascalle’s gesture, lost as she was in her fiddling with this tiny thread she had just imagined. Tugging at it, testing it. She listened as he ended the conversation, her head canting to the side. ( _ Away _ from Pascalle’s shoulder of course, not toward it,  _ Halone forbid _ .) She didn’t look at him directly, more gazed at him with a sideward glance as he said goodbye, waiting till she knew he was quite finished before she turned to face him. There was a subtle flicker of something grim across his eyes, those pools of frosted blue, for a moment so dark. Then it was gone as he took the linkpearl out of his ear.

Still, it had been  _ that _ flicker of something. The one that she had begun to associate with his past somehow. The war, his father, Mirielle. She still didn’t know what it was.

“It’s a lovely view, isn’t it?” She said, reaching up to fiddle with her hair, turning back toward the rolling sea of bright emerald and soft sage canopies. An amazing variation of plants grew here. Nasrinne knew that from books, of course. They had plenty of books on botany back home, in the library. Not at Whitebrim. The real library. The one that didn’t exist anywhere anymore. Or, whatever did exist of it had been claimed by ice, blasted away by wind. She gave a pinched little sigh. It would do neither of them any good to be moody about their past.  _ If _ that was even what Pascalle’s expression was all about.

“I had a thought while you were chattering to Jhuls.” She said to him, taking care to keep her voice low,

Pas continued to look out over the side of the airship as Nas spoke to him, her voice hidden from the other passengers and crewmen milling about. The green of the trees and the rivers shining like silvery stems on a frosted morning. There were no churches, with their great spires blocking what little sun could get through the endless clouds.

“What was it?” He asked her, matching her volume, still not looking away from the trees. He couldn’t tear himself away from that view this moment if he had wanted to.

“What if our  _ friend _ never left the landing.”

“What do you mean?” he cocked his head to the side reflexively, thought he still spoke in a whisper.

“At the time their ship came in, there were plenty of other’s docking and departing. Perhaps they slipped aboard a different vessel.” Nasrinne continued, “The three of us were so trained on watching who was  _ leaving _ , we didn’t pay much attention to any other vessels. And there is still the matter of Hemmet’s airship, the one he kept on standby at the Saucer.”

_ Where had that gotten to, after all? _

“I’ll have Mintori try to get a hold of the manifests of all the airships that were docked at the time we arrived and where they were headed… I’ll contact him once we’re somewhere more secure.” he cursed himself. If only he’d pushed harder on Hemmet when he had the chance, made him crack. He could still remember Arnor telling him not to trust the Sergeant. He had been right; the whole operation had been botched from the very beginning.

“You should keep a hold of the linkpearl, use it to check in with Mintori. He said it was very secure, didn’t he? As good as something a Monetarist would use? Perhaps I’m being paranoid, I do sound an  _ awful _ lot like Ygyy…”

Nasrinne’s voice cut into his thoughts. He looked at the tiny device in the palm of his hand.

“If it’s good enough for Mintori, I trust it.” He wasn’t sure if he  _ did _ trust it was completely secure, but Pas knew that Nasrinne already had a wariness of them and didn’t want to stoke that fire. The last thing they needed was for someone to overhear the things they were going to be sharing. Hemmet’s movements? The investigations in Gridania? If somehow whoever was behind all this got wind of any of that, it could be disastrous. 

Nasrinne watched him out of the corner of her eye, his sharp eyes taking in the view as the airship began its slow descent into the lush woodlands below them.

“I don’t rightly know that we’ll find our man on any of the manifests,  _ or _ any reports about that ship of Hemmet’s. It was supposed to be a Flame’s ship after all.” She shook her head again, “That is what first got me so bothered about it, he called for another batch of reinforcements. But we’d just ridden with him aboard a ship full of his fellow guardsman to the Saucer and back, chasing after Fabrice and I’zuna. Why didn’t he just call them over?” She let out a drawn sigh, her lips pursing.

“Honestly it was all a bit of a haze after walking in on… that.” Pascalle found it hard to find the words to describe the scene they’d walked in on. He could still see the shock-horror etched upon Hemmet’s face on the ship's deck. “I’d assumed he had the guardsmen set up a perimeter” He lowered his voice, cupping his mouth with his hand. “The more we look into the Sergeant, the more questionable his motives become.” Pas furrowed his brow. He was frustrated. 

Nasrinne furrowed her brow too. She was thinking about the differences in what she had heard, hidden beneath the shadow of the bar. The practiced, almost rehearsed way Hemmet had spoken when he encountered Fabrice, compared to how his voice had cracked when he had seen I’zuna. She drew a sharp little breath through her nose.

“Hopefully Mintori can help us get a little closer to whatever the  _ trouble _ in Ul’dah is.” She murmured. Then she raised her eyes to meet his, a faint smile softening the sober expression she’d worn before he had looked at her. 

“I think you’ll like it here a lot, Pascalle.” She said quietly, “It’s sort of like Coerthas used to be, but more colourful, and perhaps a touch kinder…” Nasrinne trailed off, clearing her throat, “I know we’re not here for a leisurely trip around the Shroud or anything like that.” She turned back to look at the bright rooftops of the Carline Canopy as it came into view.

“Kinder? I think I’ll like it here, too.” he was smiling a little. Ishgard was such a cold place. Literally and figuratively. He was looking forward to spending some time with some genuine, kind people.

Ul’dah, the Gold Saucer, Ishgard. The rich and noble rats lording over their foul sewers, grinding the guiltless citizenry into servitude and poverty with the heels of their boots. From all accounts Gridania’s administration has the people’s best interest at heart. He was of no disillusion that they wouldn’t have their own, different problems, but it was comforting to hear of a place where people looked out for one another.

He tapped his knuckles along the railings. Not long now and they’d be docking as the port was coming into view. “Looks like we’re here.” He turned, finally looking at her. “Gridania.”

There were not a great deal of passengers to disembark, still, they waited until the last to leave. Stepping into the dappled light cast by Canopy’s tall, stained glass windows.

“The aetheryte is on the way to the Company barracks.” She said to him as they walked, up the stairs into the cosy common room of the adventurer’s guild. “There’s an inn upstairs, I forget the name of it. I didn’t stay here long. Jhuls was just north of here, at Fallgourd Float.”

His boots clomped along the wooden deck as they disembarked. Pascalle closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. The smell of pollen and wood was in the air, sweet and earthy. He’d nearly forgotten what it was like. “Very well, I can attune to the aetheryte on our way through to the barracks.” he replied as they emerged into the sunshine, the sun beating down on his neck

“Fallgourd Float. The name just rolls off the tongue.” Pas laughed, though he knew Ishgardian names were not much better than their Gridanian counterparts.

It didn’t take long for Pas to attune himself to the Grdainian aetheryte, the process always gave him an odd feeling, it felt like restoring a connection to something that was forgotten. Like a smell forcing a memory, it was always there he just couldn’t remember it. It was not a feeling Pascalle enjoyed and he nearly brushed it off. “Do you find attuning to the crystals… invasive? I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

She pursed her lips at his question about the aetheryte, pausing a moment.

“The first time I ever attuned to an aetheryte was at Dragonhead. They made you do it; so if you lost consciousness in the field, they could get you home quickly. I suppose the relief at that thought was the only thing that’s ever stuck with me about the experience…” She gave him a little shrug. “I don’t know much about magic and aether, truth be told. Just that we’re made of it. And… so is everything else. Or something… Jhuls can’t use them anymore, but, that’s actually why he did so well here, got to know so many people… he had to travel with caravans and traders, going back and forth with the chocobo porters. Helping them train the beasts here at the Grand Company…” 

“I can’t imagine Jhuls doing so well on his own, he’s always been a bit of a leaner.” 

She laughed a little at the way Pascalle described her brother.

“I suppose you could think of it like that.” She said as they crossed the little bridge out of the main plaza to head toward the company barracks. “But there is another way of looking at it. Perhaps I’m just indulgent because I love my big brother, but Jhuls has a natural talent for seeing what  _ other  _ people are like. What they’re good at, what makes them tick. And he helps people put those traits to good use. Sometime when they’re not even aware of it themselves.” She laughed.

He felt a slight twang of guilt at Nasrinne’s reply. He did love Jhulayne like a brother, maybe that’s why he felt he was such an easy target for his jokes – he had thought he’d never make them again a few months ago, perhaps he was just making the most of it. “Your perspective is certainly much kinder.” He chuckled, looking away from her with a hint of shame in his eyes. Jhuls had done  _ much _ for his confidence in his youth. He had shown him he could rely on his own strength, and that of his brothers when he thought he could trust no one.

“Jhuls loves to play the clown because it makes it very easy for people to trust him. It makes his intellect seem much less threatening. But just ask Jhulayne the quickest way to break a siege. Not only will he know the answer, but people will actually  _ listen _ to his answer, and lend it some credence.” She looked back over her shoulder toward him, it was an odd feeling as she was already on the stairs and she wasn’t really looking up at him for a change. “I wish I was half as good with people as he is.” She said, a touch more earnestly than she had intended. It didn’t feel very  _ safe _ to speak earnestly if you were looking into Pascalle’s eyes. She decided. She felt like her tongue could slip any moment and add all manner of things she didn’t mean to say. She bit her lip, turning and climbing the rest of the short steps into the barracks proper.

They arrived just outside Adder’s Nest and it was bustling with grand company members, adventurers milling about looking at bounties and marks plastered on the hunt board, requesting help with beasts and other odds and ends. He stopped just before the ramp that ascended to the main platform.

“I cannot deny that man has a golden tongue, and a keen mind.” His eyes drifted back up, meeting Nasrinne’s. “A trait that runs through his family, to be sure.”

“Almost all the family.” She corrected him with a snort, “Pascalle you might be among the five people from Ishgard who I can have a tolerable conversation with. The only reason it is a bit easier to talk to everyone else is because they don’t have any idea who I’m  _ supposed _ to be.”

Pascalle looked to Nasrinne, his forehead creasing as he raised his brows in a rather pointed expression.

“That’s not on you,  _ most _ people in Ishgard are intolerable and Halone help you if you have an  _ opinion _ that differs to theirs.“ he said as if it was from the source of truth itself.

“Ishgard?” A young elezen said, he could only have been in his seventeenth summer. He had a row of freckles across the bridge of his nose, much like Jhulayne (when his skin saw the sun anyway.)

“Yes.” Nasrinne replied to him with a small smile, not knowing what else she was really supposed to say to a single word phrased as a question.

“Are you the one’s Captain Cessely is expecting?”

Nasrinne gave a wry grin, glancing up at Pascalle.   
“I suppose we don’t have to ask for help after all.”


	4. Chapter 4

**_Adder’s Nest; Gridania_ **

The soldier in front of them, a private by Pascalle’s guessing from his age and uniform, was quite brief with them. He could see the stern look on his face, he probably had not had the duty of greeting an envoy before. He was likely anxious, Pas would have been at his age he reminded him of himself as they followed the nameless elezen through a pair of wide, double doors into what was obviously a training and mess area.

“Captain!” He called, feet clapping together, arms folding before his chest as he bowed.

A short woman looked up from where she had been standing by a desk, her eyes drifting between Nasrinne and Pascalle.

“ _ Ah _ .” She said with a nod, “Ser Dubois and Lady Filois, I assume?”

“That’s right.” Nasrinne replied brightly, “And just Nasrinne is more than fine.”

“As is Pascalle.” Pascalle agreed, nodding politely to the Captain. Pascalle had never liked titles, saluting and all that went along with it. Showing respect for a rank which was likely afforded by nepotism anyway.

“Private Page. There’s a lance on a rack there and a striking dummy with your name on it somewhere, isn’t there?”

“Yes, Captain.” The young Private Page barked with another bowed salute before scurrying off.

“Alright, we’ll head over to my office. It’s small, and I share it with another Captain, Hastaleyan. He’s messy.” Captain Cessely was telling them both as she gestured for them to follow her past recruits drilling situps and squats, and tables strewn with cards and dirty mugs and out the back of the building, up a small set of stairs and into, “As I was saying, mind the mess.” 

“And my sister thinks I’m a hoarder.” Nasrinne joked as she looked around at the piles of books and papers overflowing on one of the desks.

Cessely rolled her eyes,

“Hasta calls it organised chaos.” She shook her head, rolling the long sleeves of her robes up as she sat down behind a much  _ cleaner _ desk. “Just pull up some of those storage benches and have a seat.” She said to them without looking, her eyes searching one of the desk drawers for the right dossier.

_ Office? He thought. Hastaleyan seemed to want to turn it into a junk market. _

“Organised chaos? I bet he’d be lucky to find his own feet in here. I’d love to show this to Yggy, she’d never pester you again as long as you live.” Pas chucked while he looked around for the storage benches, grabbing one by the side handle as he started to lug it over. It was heavy, was everything in this room packed to the brim? One seemed sturdy and wide enough to seat them both. The storage container's feet showed the strain of what it held inside on the wooden floorboards, etching out a divot as he shoved it into place. “Sorry.” He remarked with a shrug, she’d asked him to do it and the room was a mess anyway. He wiped the sweat from his brow after having to exert himself to move... whatever heavy thing that lay inside the storage bench and sat down. The reward for his effort.

Cessely waved off Pascalle’s apology, finally finding the thick, yellowed envelope she was looking for. The front of it was covered in official looking stamps, The Adders mark and Nasrinne’s family crest among them. It must have been sent back and forth between Gridania and Ishgard more than a few times. “Your brother has sent me the information you passed to him already.” She said looking up at Nasrinne before she shifted her gaze over to Pascalle, “But if I’m to understand, its only Ser Pascalle who is an enlisted member of the Holy See’s forces?”

“Yes, that is correct.” Pas held out his hand for the document, reaching across nearly the entire table but only leaning slightly forward. “Lady Filois is playing a pivotal role in this investigation for the administration. Any information that relates to the death of Edeonne Gleaneaux can, and will, be directly relayed to her.” He said sternly his eyes locked on Cessely and his hand still extended waiting for the papers. He had to be direct, they didn't need the song and dance of another Hemmet situation.

“Well that’s what I was getting to.” The Captain said, the corners of her lips tweaking upwards slightly as she turned back to face Nasrinne. “According to your brother’s reports, you’ve been doing most of his groundwork for him in Ul’dah. Ser Pascalle’s only been with you a fortnight or so.”

“It’s getting closer to a month.” Nasrinne replied, feeling slightly defensive suddenly, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Quite right, it’s closer to a month.” He agreed, a slight smile just reaching the corners of his lips.

“Right, right.” Cessely nodded as she pulled out some of the papers which Pascalle was so patiently and determinedly waiting for. She spread them on the desk, leaving his hand empty. She spun one of the sheets around to face Nasrinne. “So, this is your report about Fabrice Rougecarpe and the dancer, I’zuna Mizonah?”

“Mizonah? Was that her last name…” Nasrinne said as she looked down at her handwriting, “Yes, that’s literally the letter I sent my brother.” She gave Pascalle a sidelong glance before she looked back at the Captain. “Does that matter?”

“Well, only that it’s very bloody thorough.” The Midlander said, her brows raised in amusement. “As well as all the rest of the sizable pile of your notes he’s sent me.”

“That’s a good thing though, right?” Nasrinne actually did just look at Pascalle now. She knew she had just been complaining about people in Ishgard, but this whole conversation was starting to make her think perhaps she really could only find five people tolerable to talk to.

“It’s a rare talent, you have an eye for the details, Nas”

“Yes of course it’s good.” Cessely replied, clearly baffled why Nasrinne would even need to ask the question. “It’s why I want to know if you want to enlist as a freelance agent. We offer it to plenty of adventurers. Usually not diplomat’s sisters, true. But it’s not as if there’s a rule against it.”

Pascalle still had his hand open and waiting to receive the report when Captain Cessely spoke, holding the reports close to her. Even though this was the outcome he had wanted from the beginning, he couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He closed his hand and slowly retracted his arm.

“Well. Good then, Lady Filois has been scouring over the evidence for the past few months. There are none more knowledgeable in this investigation. you would think her knowledge would be put to good use. I can’t even fathom that we’ve had such resistance to the idea from some other  _ concerned _ parties.” Though Captain Cessely throwing out an offer of employment was sincerely unexpected. It wasn’t something that was really done in Ishgard, being so closed to outsiders.

“A freelance agent of the Twin Adders, that sounds like quite the opportunity” He exclaimed. Truthfully, he was quite interested in what her response would be, and what would be required of her. But it was not his job offer to ask. He had a job, a duty. One he hated but it  _ was _ his.

“This sounds like something for the both of you to discuss. I’ll continue to look through this” He said, gesturing to the pages on the table. Pascalle was not sure how he felt or what this might mean for them both as he reached for the report of Edeonne Gleaneaux.

“A what?” Nasrinne furrowed her brow. She looked over toward him for perhaps a measure of guidance, but he was already looking down at the notes assembled in front of him. She bit her lip.

“Look, you don’t have to. I’m just saying, as Pascalle said, you seem to have a keen eye for details. That kind of mind is always needed on investigative jobs.” Cessely raised one eyebrow at her, a poignant expression on her face. “I’m sure it would likely help you overcome that resistance from…  _ concerned parties _ , too.”

Nasrinne was still worrying at her lip. She drew a little breath through her nose, looking back down at the notes she’d sent to Jhulayne. All neatly written up on the backs of her sheet music.

“Well I mean, what… what does it entail? I am a citizen of Ishgard and…”

“Citizenship doesn’t matter. The Adders are authorised to work with people outside of the company, and you can’t expect people to work for you if you don’t pay them. We put you on the books when you take a job, and you do it… that’s about the long and short of it to be honest.”

“Right.” Nasrinne nodded.

“Great, that’s settled then!” Cessely beamed at her momentarily.

“Well, I haven’t-”

“Right, the case in question. I haven’t briefed you.”

“ _ Oh.  _ Well…”

Pascalle half listening to their conversation, heard the hesitation in Nasrinne’s voice. He looked up from the report toward her. This Captain Cessely was either very sly or far too credulous, he couldn’t decide just yet.

“Hold on, you can’t just expect her to make a large decision like that. She needs time to think it over.” He interjected firmly to Cessely, craning his head toward Nas “Jhulayne would kill me if I didn’t make sure you at least had time to speak with him.” He winked at her.

“Does she?” Cessely turned her eyes away from Nasrinne toward Pascalle as she asked the question, and then turned to face Nasrinne once more with an expression that clearly said,  _ do you? _ “Well, I suppose if that’s the way of it.” She gave a little shrug, “Do you think you could make a decision overnight, then?”

Nasrinne only nodded her reply. Her eyes looking down at her own notes as Cessely spoke. She sat very quietly, a part of her wondering if she had finally met someone with an inclination to speak frankly as large as her own.

“Alright, So, back to the briefing on Eddeone. Although she originally went missing out by Camp Tranquil, we actually found her body not far from the city proper… which wouldn’t be odd. If we thought someone might have tried to dispose of the evidence further from the scene of their crime.”

“You don’t think that?”

“Not to mention, why would they bring the body closer to the city to dispose of it?” Pascalle added, with a tilt of his head, brow furrowing.

“It’s the fact she wasn’t wearing the clothes she disappeared in. She’d changed clothes. She was definitely murdered after she’d been reported missing. And, potentially the body was moved so far afield, because the privates working the disappearance were up at Tranquil, and the perp got wind of it.” Cessely replied.

“The body was here because she was here. Edeonne made her way from Tranquil to the city to try and hide from someone, or something.” This was a pattern Nasrinne was seeing amongst all the missing Ishgardians. And hadn’t Fabrice  _ told _ them as much on the balcony that night in the Goblet? He very well had.

“The question is what, or who were they running from?” If only he’d squeezed that dirty dog Arnor for more information when he had the chance. But how? When? Arnor was under Hemmet’s lock and key.

“The clothes you found Edeonne in, were they pale in shade?” Nasrinne asked, raising her head finally.

“Yes. Well. I mean they would have been. If they weren’t,” the midlander paused, choosing her next word carefully. “Stained.”

“Amandine’s clothes were different too, you see. A pale shade of yellow. I couldn’t actually confirm whether or not she  _ owned _ them...”

“But no one who knew her when she was alive seemed to remember them?” Cessely finished the statement as a question.

Nasrinne nodded.

Pas placed the report down, providing his full attention to Nasrinne. He was never good at taking notes, but his memory was good enough to remember the details. I _ f _ he was paying attention. It was easy for Pascalle to remember scenes and faces, small details that others might forget, he believed that was what made him a good painter.

“First of all, Amandine and Edeonne are the only women reported missing from Ishgard. The similarity in their murders undoubtedly connects them. While I never saw the full report from the Flames, everyone I spoke to said her end had been violent.” She looked back at her notes again, “The only problem I see with suggesting this might be the work of the same individual is I’zuna. She was wearing the same sort of clothes she always seemed to wear.” Nasrinne said, looking over toward Pascalle, “But, I have a number of theories as to why there may be some differences in the pattern amongst the murders of these women. Namely, I’zuna tended to wear white. There was no need for our criminal to put her into something they preferred.”

He felt sick to his stomach,  _ dressing them up like dolls before slaughtering them. _

“Have you found any other similarities other than the clothing and… unfortunate method used to kill these young women?”

They had more background information on I’zuna’s murder, and why she was different to the rest, she wasnt a running, but a loose end caught by surprise. His eyes were drawn from Nasrinne to Cessely. Pascalle wondered how much information they were willing to share with Captain Cessely, how much they  _ should  _ share. Personally, he felt his trust waning in city officials no matter where they were.

Unlike Pascalle, Nasrinne had developed quite a good opinion of Captain Cessely over their brief interaction. She was not one to waste time with banal pleasantries or idle speculation for one. A trait that Nasrinne always found comforting because  _ she _ was not one to waste time with these things.

“Between your Amandine in Ul’dah and Eddeonne here? No. In fact, we wouldn’t have even really found any if your brother hadn’t sent along all you’ve been sending him.” She nodded to Nasrinne. “I requested a report from the Flames. Formality, you know. Sent them ours. Just in case. They said they couldn’t find any connections, and the return report from them left our a number of details in yours, Nasrinne. Namely, as you’ve rightly said an accurate description of Amandine’s clothes, or at least the ones she disappeared in, and the testimony of the three neighbours. None of it in here.” She tossed them the report, leaning back into her chair.

“Now, if I didn’t know better. I’d say there was a bunch of incompetent dolts running around playing Imperial Flames.” Cessely’s voice snapped them both back to the conversation at hand. “But I’ve served with plenty of officers from Ul’dah.” Her eyes drifted back toward the report. “I know when someone gives me a lemon, is what I am saying.”

She held out the report. It was… quite scant.

“Though there surely are some incompetent dolts within the Flames.” Pascalle scoffed “I’ll admit it’s good to hear a Captain of the Adders would notice a… lemon.” His eyes narrowed as he took the report, shaking his head. “So much is missing.” It completely left out mention of the place that Amandine was spotted in the days before she went missing. The Gold Saucer. And there was only a single witness statement, the refugee who had found the body. He threw it, the single page document spinning across the desk in front of him.” This is worse than a lemon. Now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, it’s hard not to believe there’s some form of corruption within the Flames’ ranks.”

“Look, I don’t pretend to know the business of every soldier in the company. I just look after my own men. I’m sure there are some under every banner who’d line their pockets over honouring their duties. I’m in no position to level any accusations at the Flames.” She spread her hands in front of her in a hapless gesture. “But it’s clear that whoever they’ve got looking in to these disappearances, doesn’t even cast a shadow on Nasrinne’s meticulous investigating.”

Nasrinne wasn’t used to receiving such praise. Except save for Jhulayne, and she couldn’t count his opinion because he was her brother. She decided to ignore it so she could focus on the puzzle in front of her, which was of much more pertinent concern.

Pascalle couldn't help but feel quietly proud that all Nasrinne’s hard work was being recognized, as morbid as the subject was, she was really very good at this line of work. He smiled warmly toward her as Cessely praised her reports, he could tell she was doing her best not to look at either of them, as if it was hard for her to take such praise. (And he was finding he found it  _ very _ cute.)

“Now, we haven’t had any other Ishgardian women turn up like this. It’s true. But there’s another possible connection.” Cessely pulled another set of notes from the pile.

But she couldn’t ignore it when Pascalle grinned at her, roguishly.

_ Why must you be so devilishly handsome? _ Nasrinne asked him silently in her mind, doing her best not to blush, as the Captain continued their conversation.

“Have a look at this one. Alberic St Pierre.” Cessely held the file out toward them. “Shortly after he was found, we also found a guard he’d hired in the days before he disappeared…”

Alberic St Pierre - Pascalle did not know the man the name belonged to, he motioned for Nasrinne to look at the report first.

“You have the hawk eyes.” He smiled cheekily. She picked up the report, reading through.

Nasrinne’s eyes skimmed the words.

_...was found with their throat slit… _

“Like Fabrice…” She said, looking between Pascalle and the Captain.

“Exactly like Fabrice.” He repeated her, quite taken aback.

“Yes… and it makes me thing. Well, I can’t help but wonder… if perhaps we’re looking at  _ two _ people here. Someone with a mean streak, and someone who is supposed to reel them in, and does most of the time. Except  _ maybe _ , when they’re spooked.”

“We spoke with the Baron Rougecarpe, just a few turns before his untimely end.” Nasrinne told the Captain. If Pascalle had been hoping to keep this information between themselves, it was obvious now that Nasrinne had other ideas. “We went with him to a private party at the house of I’zuna Mizonah. We tried to speak with him about Amandine, she had been seen with him at the Gold Saucer.” She continued to explain, “He specifically had said that someone was coming for him. And he was terribly jittery around Pascalle and myself.”

“He was downright terrified.” Pas added with, his gaze drifting off from either one of them as he remembered that evening on the balcony.

“Both of whom had been introduced as hailing from Ishgard.”

She glanced over toward Pascalle, remembering again what he had said about Hemmet asking after his family name. The beginnings of an idea were forming in her mind, and she was explaining everything to Cessely, because truly; these were the sorts of problems you  _ needed _ to speak aloud to work through.

“Let’s just imagine, for a moment, that whoever is… committing these crimes is  _ also _ from Ishgard.” She said to them both.

Pascalle turned to Nas in shock. As if it should have come to him sooner. It all fit together too well. Why Fabrice was so intimidated by _him_ and why Hemmet was curious about _his_ name. His heart was racing. It couldn’t be _him_ , and it couldn’t be his _father._ _Could it?_ It had to simply be that they were Ishgardian, perhaps he resembled someone they knew? He looked around the office as if he would find the answer in the piles of clutter throughout.

“For some reason, whatever it is I couldn’t tell you now, but for some reason, they’re being assasinated. Some of them more gruesomely than others. Which, you’re quite right Captain Cessely. Suggests more than one perpetrator.” She nodded, in affirmation of the other woman’s suggestion.

“A plausible theory…” He agreed, nodding, once he had mastered himself. “Perhaps a group of people Are there anymore Ishgardian citizens residing within Gridania?”

“There  _ is _ .” Cessely replied to Pascalle nodding. “Truth be told there are several. Adventurers in the Lavender Beds, for instance. To say nothing of the folks who resettled here after the Calamity.”

“Right then, I would expect the adventurers would be unlikely targets and the others who may be...” he stopped himself. “You’ve already investigated these avenues I’m sure.”

“Black Yew.” Nasrinne said this as if it was, on its own, an answer.

“Black Yew?” Pascalle quirked his brow as her lips drew slowly into a droll little smile.

“It’s a notoriously hard poison to extract, and it only comes from the Yew here. In the Shroud.” Nasrinne looked back down at the notes on the table. “We need to look for an alchemist.” She told them both.

“Or a botanist. Perhaps both. But someone involved with the use of herbs and plants in medicine or magic. Someone from Ishgard originally. Living here now, in the Shroud.” She flipped over one of the pages she had sent Jhulayne. Looking for some space, anywhere, on any of the papers. “Have you got something to write with? We’ll start making a list.” 

Without hesitation he reached over the table toward an ink and quill that were close to his side of the perfectly ordered desk, passing them over to Nasrinne.

“There’s a botanist district here in the city? How about between here and Camp Tranquil?” His mind was racing for new questions. Hiding from the answers he didn’t want to see. 

“Right, well we’ve already questioned all the botanists officially affiliated with the guild. We had Fufacha have a look at the bodies; help us narrow down the specific poison used. Black Yew is a component in it. It’s swift and lethal.” Cessely explained.

As Pascalle handed her the writing instruments, he looked a little… well she wasn’t sure how to put it really. It couldn’t have been nerves because Pascalle had nothing to be nervous about. Perhaps it was simply that the office was small, and cramped.

“Fufacha?” Nasrinne held the quill, poised between her fingers as she looked to the Captain.

“She’s the head of the botanist’s guild Anyway, we’ve been able to clear the guild of any suspicion. The guild  _ proper _ that is. Of course, they have tradings with all sorts of independent outfitters. Solo types, family enterprises. So on, and so on.” Cessely gave a little wave of her hand, the long sleeve of her robe sliding further down her arm.

“Right, you were already investigating for poison.”

“But not necessarily for  _ Ishgardians _ and  _ poison _ . You have narrowed down the list quite considerably with that. It’ll take a bit to dig up the right records though. Though, I admire your zeal for the task.” She nodded at the quill in Nasrinne’s hand. “I’ll put a group from my unit on now, and we should be able to give you an accurate list of names, and their rough whereabouts by the morning.” 

“Of course.” Nasrinne shook her head with a half-smile, putting the quill back in its inkwell.

“If the two of you are looking for a nice place to stay, there’s quite a few in the Lavender Beds if the Roost is full.”

_ The Roost _ . Nasrinne thought to herself.  _ That’s the name of the inn _ . She narrowly avoided snapping her fingers, realising how much it would confuse everyone just in time. Grabbing at a piece of her hair instead.

“Don’t worry about the bench.” This was clearly her way of dismissing them, “Hasta can move it.” (Probably so she could go and do what she said and hand them a detailed and  _ useful _ piece of information that might actually  _ further _ their investigation.) 

Pascalle nodded toward Cessely. “Thank you for your assistance, Captain. We’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.” He replied, wading his way through the piles of junk to the office’s exit.

“You’ll be sure to think over the offer, as well, Nasrinne?” Cessely called to them.

“Of course.” Nasrinne replied again. Then she realised that was the last thing she had said; and was promptly struck by the sensation of how stupid it must sound to just be  _ repeating yourself word for word _ . “I’ll be sure to give it a great deal of thought over the evening.” She added.

_ Why didn’t you just lead with that? Repeating yourself like some kind of windup puppet. Good gods, Nasrinne _ . She thought to herself as she followed Pascalle. 

He turned to smile at her, though he didn’t say anything. He could tell by the way she quirked her brow, she had too much on her mind already. And so, did he. His whole life he’d always had this ambiguous feeling; something good comes with something bad. This Cessely seemed to have given them another lead, but this job offer might take Nasrinne from him already, when he’d just started to feel like he might have been able to find a scrap of happiness in his bleak and monotonous life. He couldn’t help but think the closer they came to an answer, the more everything was slipping away from him.

He kept his mind off these niggling concerns by focusing on the most pertinent task. Finding lodging in Gridania. Once that was settled, then perhaps they could share what was on their minds…

\----


	5. Chapter 5

**_The Roost; Gridania_ **

Cessely had recommended the Roost, the graceful timber building they had passed through after leaving the airship. It was the closest to the company barracks, and as luck would have it, there were rooms available.

They managed to snatch up two rooms across the hall from each other. This didn’t come especially cheap but Pascalle had argued being closer for the investigation was worth the cost (Not to mention taking Nas somewhere made him feel a little better).

Nasrinne was still of the mind that even one night at the Roost, (Gridania’s  _ Premiere _ Hostillery, or so the literature boasted,) was too pricey. But Pas had insisted, and his arguments carried water, and now it was done.

Pascalle’s mind was still quietly ticking over. Could his own kin, Ishgardians, be committing such atrocities in their neighbouring nations? He shifted on his feet.

“I guess there’s more than few things we need to discuss?” he asked Nas with a slightly worried look on his face as they stood in the hall. 

“Well, we can speak in private in my room.” She said as she turned the key in the lock, swinging open the door to look inside the well-appointed chambers. Much like the rest of the city it seemed to seamlessly and beautifully merge with nature.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said as she stepped inside, lost in her impressions of the place.

_ There were living plants there _ .

“My it  _ is  _ quite beautiful.” He agreed, as he placed his bags down on the ground.

Not fresh cut flowers, actually alive plants. Growing around the window and beneath skylights that let the sun’s rays stream through and dapple the leaves.

Perhaps the literature wasn’t boasting.

“Honestly, now I’ve seen it… I’ll have to thank you again.” She laughed, it was a breathy sort of laughter and it was only halfway through her chuckling that she realised the many implications of that statement. “That is, I shall have to find a way to return the gesture.”  _ That wasn’t any better, Nas. _ “I mean I’d have to repay you in some way…”

Pascalle was quite delighted she was so taken with the room. Perhaps even more so when she thanked him with that laugh and… repay him? His cheeks started to burn.

_ Still not any better. _ With her anxiety rising, Nasrinne’s mind did what it often did in those moments. “I mean do something for you that’s equally as expensive.”

Let her speak without thinking.

So, Pascalle was granted the blessing of hiding his own embarrassment behind his laugh.

“Kind…” She added hastily, correcting herself. But it was all too late now. The whole thing was a write off from the moment she’d opened her mouth. “Something, equally as kind.”

_ Nasrinne, you are a spectacular fool _ , she reminded herself as she looked toward the desk and chairs.

“Please I won’t have it and there’s nothing for it.” He waved his hands dismissively, still chuckling. “I couldn’t have Jhulayne thinking I wasn't taking care of his baby sister.”

“Anyway, shall we sit down?” It was, she felt, the only sensible thing she had said since she opened the door. “Oh, look there’s a menu for the kitchen here.” She added conversationally, trying to ignore the slow, burning internal death she was experiencing.

“Seats, yes. The kitchen menu, right.” Pascalle bumbled through his reply. He walked over to look at the bit of paper, taking a seat and hoping to soothe both their shame. “We can order something to help us think, there’s much to discuss.”

Nasrinne could even hear the chirurgeon explaining it to her family  _ ‘...died of her own embarrassment. Melted from the inside out. _ ’ That’s what they’d tell them. “What did you want to talk about first?”

His eyes were cast down at the pamphlet in his hand, turning it over as he murmured his next words, a touch quieter than normal.

“So, a job with the Adders?” His eyes drifted back up, meeting hers, “I think it would suit you well.” He gave a small smile. 

As Pascalle’s eyes met hers, the length of the desk that ran between them seemed to shrink immensely. Her breath hitched slightly as he spoke his questions in that soft, feathery voice. It was a voice she hadn’t heard before, really. 

“Yes, well… it was unexpected.” The smile he flashed her did nothing to help her bashfulness subside, “Do you think so? So, you think I should take it?” She grinned broadly suddenly, all teeth as she said her next words. ‘“Ygrinne would have a fit.” Then she realised how she was smiling. (All teeth.) And she looked toward the dark, chestnut leather covering her knees.

“If Yggrinne is going to have a fit about something you want, it’s probably going to be an enjoyable experience.” Pascalle teased, laughing. Even though he was not sure if that was a betrayal of his own feelings; would he have been on Yggy’s side?

“I think Father will be happy about it though, if I take it. He always got scolded a bit by Mother and Yggy for it;  _ Don’t encourage her, Father _ .” She said, mimicking her sister. “But he often praised me for my soldiering and my field work.” She gave a little shrug.

“I’m sure he will. Your father was a wise man to praise your skills. I’m sure if it’s what you want, then he would wish it for you.” He was genuinely happy for her listening to her talk that way. He meant every word too, it was something he had always wanted for himself, someone to want the best for him.

“Captain Cessely is right though. It certainly might help out when it comes to acquiring information from reluctant parties like Hemmet.” She pursed her lips, “She said it was as a freelance agent… I probably should have asked her more questions…” She rubbed her chin a moment, her hand dropping as she gave him a shrug. “But if they usually offer this sort of work to adventurers it can’t be as if they expect me to slap on a uniform and bunker down at the barracks. What adventurer would do that?” She was rambling while he read the menu, doing her best to avoid just  _ looking _ at him. It was rude to stare, but also incredibly difficult  _ not _ to stare at Pascalle. At least, in Nasrinne’s opinion. Plus every time she looked at him she would smile too wide. Like her cheeks couldn’t help themselves from just,  _ rising _ . She held back a sigh.

“Freelance does sound appealing… And having the credentials to back your investigation… well there would be much less  _ she's ‘just a noble’ _ bollocks.” His fingers made little quotation marks either side of his head as he said it. He shifted in his chair, his heart beating faster. Why wasn't she looking at him? She was looking everywhere  _ but _ at him. Could she tell?

Did she know the things he was thinking but didn’t want to say? That he didn't want her to leave his side. She was obviously taken with the idea of this job, and he’d never stop her. But.. He’d only just found her. He didn't know exactly what it would mean for them… not that there was really a  _ them _ . He didn’t know exactly what it would mean for  _ him _ . The thought made his stomach flip.

“Well how quaint! look here” He pointed at a line on the menu, “They have Pastry Fish!” It was a poor attempt at getting her to look toward him, honestly. He just needed to look her in the eyes.

“Pastry fish?” She did look at him now. With the same expression as always. Bright; like a pair of star sapphires. “Really? Is it a recipe from home?” She leaned forward in her chair to sneak a peek at it. “ 

“Nas… I’m a terrible cook I wouldn't know.” He said, his head tilted to the side, lips pursing as he passed her the menu.

“How would I know you’re not a good cook?” She laughed as the took it. “Although you’ve confessed to it now, so I suppose I shan’t be asking you to share any recipes.”

Pascalle wiggled his long fingers toward her.

“With these ridiculous things attached to my hands?” He laughed. “But… Now my secret shame is revealed. No, it’s not something I ever learned…” He was jovial on the outside, but it was something of a sore point. “Quite ridiculous, a man of my age… And I struggle to even cook eggs...” He trailed off, glancing away from her, out the window toward the blue sky. It was a skill he was never  _ allowed _ to learn, for it was something women and  _ the help _ did in his home.

“I can teach you how to cook eggs.” She chuckled, thinking to herself how hard could it be to teach someone to cook eggs if they wanted to learn? “Don’t worry too much about not being able to cook, Pas. I doubt there’s much time to learn how to poach eggs when you’re busy being a temple knight.”

“Careful what you’re offering.” He warned her with one of his playful, roguish smiles. “It’s an insurmountable task.  _ And _ you haven’t  _ eaten _ my poached eggs.” He chuckled too, then looked away bashfully as she made excuses for him. Nobody ever made excuses for him, except maybe Jhulayne.  _ Halone bless the Filois _ . He thought to himself

“Some people think pasty fish is  _ plain _ . But it’s not plain. It’s  _ simple _ .” She told him. It was quite clear from the way she explained it, that she had a  _ strong _ opinion about the dessert. 

“I taught myself how to make them because I loved them so much as a child.” Her lips curled into something of a wistful smile.

“Simple and well done is a beautiful thing.” He sighed. Many people overlooked that. Especially in the circles he grew up in. He thought from now on he’d get a Pastry fish wherever they could. “I’ll go and order us some shortly.”

She put the menu down,

“Well, don’t just order pastry fish on account of me, we’re all the way here in Gridania, I’m sure they’ve got some regional specialty.”

“Don’t fret it’s not just on account of you.  _ I _ like them.” It mostly was on account of her though. But it wasn’t a lie he did enjoy the odd fish-shaped dessert. “You know… about working with the Adders… I was thinking, or at least I’d venture to guess you’d be spending a lot more time in Gridania.” His eyebrows raised as he brought the conversation back toward the thought playing on his mind. A very roundabout way of asking what he wanted to know. “But perhaps you need more time to think about it. I shouldn’t keep bringing it up. I apologise for pressing, Nasrinne,”

“There’s no need to apologise for asking. As I said, it’s an unexpected turn of events. It’s nice to talk it over. I’ll admit, your positivity toward the idea is certainly making me think better of it.” She caught his gaze again, those impossibly piercing eyes that made her heart stop. How did  _ anyone _ pay attention to what they were doing or saying when they were talking to Pascalle?

She bit her lip, looking up toward the ceiling as she crossed her legs, thinking about what he said.

“It wouldn’t be so bad to live in Gridania. Jhuls did it for long enough and he loved it, so I’m sure if the job  _ does _ involve some sort of relocation, I’d adapt quite well.” Her smile was cheerful when she looked back toward him. “Maybe you should put in for a transfer, get Jhuls to appoint you an official Ishgardian attaché to the Adders and you can relocate here too.” She joked, tearing her gaze away from him just as she realised what she’d said. What was she thinking? Suggesting that. What? That Pascalle would want to drop his lovely life that let him spend money on lavish nights in  _ premiere hostelleries _ to shack up with her in Gridania over some piecemeal appointment with the Adders?  _ Fantastic mess. You are a fantastic bloody mess, Nasrinne Filois. _

“I mean of course, you’ve got a family and a big manor in the Pillars in Ishgard of course, so-why-would-you-want-to-do-that?” Speaking the last words so rapidly they all seemed to be strung together, laughing perhaps a little too sharply.

Pascalle found his fingers drumming along the desk.

“That’s a possibility.” He took her statement quite literally and jumped at the idea “This investigation  **_is_ ** starting to cast a dark shadow on Ishgardian citizens travelling abroad. I’m sure the administration will require a formal investigation based through one of the Grand Companies temporarily at least... Do you think Jhuls would do that for me? Me an Adder’s attaché and you, a freelance adventurer.” He felt elated, grinning wide dreaming of his life away from everything he knew. Suddenly, realising what he was doing, his hands stopped dead still.

_ You barely know this girl Pascalle _ . He told himself as he sat up straight in his chair.  _ She's beautiful, intelligent and intuitive and amazing with a bow. What are you even thinking? _ He dismissed his feelings. As he should. As he always would. Right now, there was work to be done anyway. He swallowed. Hard. As if that was the magic action that would settle the sea of emotions in his heart. 

“Are you parched?” She asked him, changing the subject as she watched him swallow a lump in his throat, “Well, it’s not as hot as Ul’dah but we have been non-stop talking since we got off the airship, really.” She didn’t wait to hear if he wanted something to drink. She just moved. Giving herself the blessed reprieve of space to master her girlish stupidity while she poured a glass of water from the pitcher over on the sideboard. “Why wouldn’t Jhuls? It’s obvious he wants someone he knows and trusts looking into this, or he’d never have had you sent to Ul’dah in the first place. Would he?” She gave a haphazard little shrug as she walked back toward him, as if to illustrate how obvious it seemed to her. Then handed him the glass as she took her seat again.

He was glad for the glass of water, hastily gulping it down as she reminded him yet again of the friend Jhulayne had always been to him. An honest friend. A true one. What if what they uncovered could change that? He looked at Nasrinne again. Change  _ this _ ?

“Cessely mentioned something in the office that caught me off guard...” He said suddenly, “It…raised some concern for me...” Unable to keep the sound of worry from his voice, “That our perpetrator may not be an individual but a group.” 

“Yes, I think she’s quite right about that. If you’re good enough to make, or rich enough to get, your hands-on poison made from black yew then you’re a calculating and patient individual. You’re hardly going to use poison half the time and brutality the other half. That’s just not how personalities work usually. If it is just  _ one _ person, then it has to be someone very unbalanced. I just don’t imagine the kind of person who acquires one of the rarest and hardest to manufacture poisons in existence, would be so  _ sloppy _ with the other murders.” She gave a little shrug after she explained her thinking. “What do you think, though? Do you think this Ishgard theory is going to bear any fruit?”

She folded her arms across her chest, the smile on her face fading slowly into a thoughtful, but questioning expression. Were there really people so incalculably cruel in this world? Nasrinne was hardly naive to the realities of life… but it was difficult to offer any valid, logical reason for I’zuna and Amandine, and now Edeonne to have been stuck like a pin cushion.

“Well there are certainly Ishgardians with the reputation, coin and the detestation in their hearts to carry out such atrocities.” He knew more than a few for certain. Pas placed the glass before him as his fingers began to dance along the wood once again. This thing, this was what was niggling in the back of his mind, gnawing away. It wasn’t just that this job might have Nasrinne malms away from him… it was…

“Do you remember the way Fabrice looked at me, on I’zuna’s balcony?” He asked her, unable to shake the feeling of dread that hung over him any longer. 

Her eyes watched him, flitting from his face, to his fingers, and back again as he asked her this. She tapped her finger upon her bottom lip. She did remember.

“If only we’d had time to explain to him that we were really here to help…” She sighed, “I imagine he would have been able to give us a description of that Dione fellow he was talking about and everything.” Her shoulders slumped with her sigh, “But obviously, he just suspected us of being in league with him somehow… really that’s another piece of evidence pointing toward all this being the work of more than one individual.” Her eyes locked on his again, “Otherwise, what possible reason would have to be afraid of us?” She gave a little scoff of incredulity, “Of course that’s just anecdotal evidence so it’s not as if we can  _ do _ anything useful with it…” 

He sighed, crossing his arms over and resting his head on them, mimicking Nasrinne’s defeated disposition. Fabrice’s terrified expression flashed over and over again in his mind, but there was something else there. A recognition, like he knew his face. 

The guilt was like fire in his stomach. He knew his father was capable of great cruelty, and though his father was a fair bit more cumbrous than he, they shared near identical facial features, complexion and colouring.  _ But it’s not like he’d have people hunted down and slaughtered, was it? _ He already knew in his heart not telling Nasrinne the truth of this earlier was awful of him. Why else did he have to work so hard to justify it. His eyes greeted hers as his eyebrows furrowed.

“I can think of a reason.” He told her softly. “My father, Artreux de Dubois. You would say we… look alike?” He couldn’t just out and say it, even still. It was too much for him. “And perhaps Fabrice may have… known… my father.” He paused to choose his words carefully. 

_ Arteux Dubois is evil. A dangerous man with a warped sense of righteousness. _

Nasrinne hadn’t forgotten what Pascalle had said to her that night on her sister’s couch with the plate of  _ marron glacé _ sitting on the cushion between them. It wasn’t as if she’d call herself  _ haunted _ by the memory of those words. But she did think about them.

_ The less he knows of your existence, the better. _

But why would that be? Certainly not because Pascalle’s father was the kind of man who went prancing around Eorzea murdering Ishgardian women in cold blood. No. Nasrinne had already gone over her reasoning behind Pascalle’s comments that night at least twenty-five times. He’d told her those things because his Father was rude, and a racist (probably). Pascalle had been drunk, and probably feeling indignant after Yggy and Tristione had shown him such kind hospitality. Just replace all the words in that sentence with much less nefarious words. Like,  _ Artreux Dubois is a cad. A stupid man with a mean streak of xenophobia. _

Nasrinne’s lips pursed,

“Well, as much as all family members look alike. You’re a good deal taller than your Father for one…” She didn’t want to add that he was also a good deal more handsome than his Father. But that was also true. Artreux was portly. And he was the sort of person whose mean-spiritedness showed in his eyes. Artreux’s eyes were cold, and full of spite. Pascalle’s eyes were like two bright jewels, like aquamarines or labradorites. There was no comparison. Well. Usually. But his eyes didn’t look like that now. They looked hollow, and… afraid.

“If Baron Rougecarpe knew your Father, doesn’t it then stand to reason he’d be relieved to see a familiar face?” She asked him. Trying to do her best to assuage his obvious concern. “And more than that, Fabrice  _ told _ us the name of the person who Amandine left with. The person he said was connected to whoever was coming for him. Does your Father have any friends called Dione?” She gave another little shrug, as if the answer to this question would prove her point. 

“In most situations yes, that would stand to reason. Fabrice would be glad to see a familiar face…” Pascalle tilted his head, looking at her as if he hadn’t got the point he was trying to make yet.  _ It’s just so hard to find the words _ . He thought to himself.

He had always had this. This guilt hanging over him from living with the knowledge that his father was a terrible person. Still he never more than scratched the surface of what his Father was. Just accepting it for so long. Ignoring it. Shuffling along like a bloody sheep to keep the peace. Until it hurt  _ him _ .

Even if it wasn’t his Father who was somehow involved in all of this; didn’t Nasrinne deserve to know? To know the truth. To know why he suspected it? That he believed his father killed Mireille because she wasn’t up to his standards. Because she would get in the way of his plans.

“Unless that face was alike to the one, he was fleeing.”

“Alike to the one he was fleeing?” Nasrinne repeated, her brow furrowing as she looked at him. “Pascalle, are you alright?”

“ _ Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it _ .” He whispered under his breath. That guilty fire, always burning away in him. Roaring so fiercely that there was nothing left but a shell. An outline of a man. He wanted to refuse to keep walking this path blindly. He wanted to pretend that he was the person he thought he could be. 

“Nasrinne, when I spoke to you of Arteux at Tristione’s house a few moons back. I meant every word.” He could feel tears prick in his eyes. Why had he waited? And even risked putting her in such danger? He still couldn’t find the words. “I don’t know. I have this feeling. Like a weight crushing down and burning from within all at the same time… that my Father is involved in this, somehow. To what extent I do not know…” 

He looked like a man tortured, right to his soul. Nasrinne was overcome with a terribly powerful urge to do all manner of inappropriate things; like,  _ Halone forbid _ , hold him. But she couldn’t just sit there and do  _ nothing _ . Her hand touched his knee, tenderly.

“Pascalle,” She said to him softly, “Take a breath, and look at me.” She waited, patiently until he did look at her, then once she had those impossibly beautiful eyes locked on her own, she spoke again.

“If you’re worried that your Father is somehow mixed up in all of this, then I won’t dismiss your feelings. You know the man far better than I ever could.” Her fingers tightened their grip, gently, where they still sat upon his knee. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But if you want me to understand, and try to help, then you’ll have to try and explain  _ why _ you feel that way.” 

Pascalle seemed to freeze while his thoughts caught up. His face was white as chalk. There were so many times he’d felt lost, like there was nothing for him in this world and all he could do was try his best to hold onto what he had. As Nasrinne placed her hand on his knee he did as she asked and took a deep breath, raising his eyes to meet her gaze again. It almost felt as if there was something in her spirit that passed to him with her touch. Like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth.

“I regret not revealing more sooner.” His spoke his words pensively. “You know that Hemmet asked of my name…” he placed his hand on hers, never looking away from her. “When Arnor called me back to his cell, I had mentioned to you his suspicions of Hemmet. He spoke of something I felt inconsequential at the time... Or I wanted to dismiss it then… I-” He closed his eyes, sighing as some colour came back to his face. His guilt and shock turned toward anger, at himself. His fingers wrapped themselves around hers, tightly, as he tried to explain himself. Drawing on the small sense of peace her presence brought. “…I thought it just blathering of a man without hope, trying to find any way out of his predicament. It could be that I’m just naive.” He let go of her hand, standing slowly, turning his face from her as she continued. 

“He had asked of my family name, Dubois… There’s too much coincidence to not look into him.”

Arnor. Arnor, who knew of Fabrice’s line of work. Had known he was out of a job. Had told them not to trust Hemmet. Could it really be that the  _ pirate _ was the honourable one in this den of thieves they’d stumbled into? She thought.  _ Too much coincidence _ .

Pascalle was right, even Nasrinne’s very imaginative mind couldn’t create some fanciful picture which explained away these incidents as anything other than suspicious. But Pascalle’s father? Somehow involved in  _ murder _ , and if what Fabrice had been hinting his line of work was correct,  _ slavery? _ Nasrinne hardly wanted to believe it, so she couldn’t  _ imagine _ how difficult it must be for Pascalle to consider the possibility. The man was his flesh and blood. Then he said something that made her breath hitch in her throat, like an unpleasant knot had just formed there.

Pascalle bowed his head where he stood, his fingers pressing into his brow.

“Nasrinne… I have no proof to give you other than my word… But I know Artreux is capable of murder. I know he killed Mirielle.”

When the hand came away from his face, there was no trace of tears. His eyes were narrowed, rigid and hard. The Pas who laughed often, the one who was everybody’s friend was not there.

Nasrinne had seen flashes off this face in the past, glimpses. Hadn’t she spent so many silly hours, wondering what it was. Wanting to know. Now that she knew, she almost wished she didn’t.

“Your Father killed Mirielle?” Her question barely above a whisper as she looked up at his face.

Another person might have pressed him then.  _ What makes you so sure? _ But Nasrinne didn’t have to press him. Bits and pieces were already clicking into place in her mind. Snatches of conversations coming back to her. Things Fabrice had said at the Saucer.  _ Now, I know what brought you to the Saucer, dear. But what about you… I dare say fairer than yours. I hear you’re out of a job, Rougecarpe… By choice… I told her, I told her that he wasn’t what he seemed…  _ Things the Captain has said.  _ Someone with a mean streak, and someone who is supposed to reel them in... _ That she had said.  _ one of the rarest and hardest to manufacture poisons in existence… _ And what Pascalle had told her, warned her of, when they’d barely known each other a moon. _ The less he knows of your existence, the better... _

All the threads weaving together. Even if she didn’t want them to. 

_ Your Father killed Mirielle _ . He had never heard those words out loud. The utterance was like a revelation. Like a wellspring of emotion burst forth as the hard face he wore a second ago crumbled under the pressure.

“Jhulayne said you told him she got sick...” She said slowly, “He poisoned her.”

Her stomach twisted, and despite all the pretty sunlight spilling in through the wide windows. Nasrinne felt cold. She could feel her pulse, like a slow crawl. “

Your Fa-” She stopped herself. She didn’t want to say that. Not again. “Artreux.” She said instead, “Artreux poisoned Mirielle… and… you’ve never told anyone. Have you?” She frowned, trying to imagine for a moment if it had been Ygrinne and Tristione. If her parents had just… She couldn’t. It was impossible. What heartless man could do such a thing? She placed her other hand atop his, wanting to console him despite the growing fury she could feel that was beginning to thaw away her shock. “Pascalle, you’ve been living with this secret? For eight years?” 

Tears rolled down his cheeks. The walls that held him up, made him strong, brick by brick they collapsed as he fell to his knees. As he cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound.

What was she supposed to do? The thought plagued her as she watched Pascalle’s facade fall.  _ What am I supposed to do? _ She asked herself. It wasn’t as if people broke down in front of one another in Ishgard. In fact, it was  _ because _ they didn’t, that this had all been so hard on Pascalle. She sank down on the floor next to him, her hand finding his back to rub it softly while he sobbed, murmuring inoffensive but truly useless words. Things like;  _ It’s alright _ and  _ it’s okay _ . Which were of course, complete lies. But what else could she say? He looked up at her finally, wiping the saltwater from his face with his sleeve, and Nasrinne cursed herself for not listening to her sister about always carrying a handkerchief.“You’re right, it was poison. The way she… passed.” Tears still in his eyes. “Eight years.” He said it with such dejection in his voice. As if he couldn’t even believe it himself. Truly, he couldn’t.

“It’s a long time.” She replied to him quietly from where she sat next to him. Her legs tucked up underneath her like a cat. Her fingers found his shoulder, and she squeezed it gently. “Too long, Pascalle. It’s a wonder you can remember to be kind to anyone at all, carrying a burden like that around.” The smile was faint on her lips, but it was still there. “And you’re kind to  _ everyone _ .”

He was kind to everyone. Almost to a fault. Such a kind and generous man, and he’d been made to suffer so much. Why? Nasrinne couldn’t help her anger, although she didn’t want to slip into her own rage now. Now was not the time for her anger so she buried it, deep. But it was there all the same. 

“We will see justice done, Pas.” There was a touch of ice to her words. Something cold, and creeping. “For Mirielle, and for you.” She let her hand fall to her own lap again, “We’ll find the proof we need, and he  _ will _ answer for his crimes.” There was a confidence in her tone. She believed what she was telling him, completely. If Artreux de Dubois was really the hand that was pulling the strings of these murderous puppets, then Nasrinne would not rest till she had seen that hand cut off.

For several sweet moments Pascalle didn't have to hide behind a mask. Not of happiness, not of coping. For several sweet moments he could be honest. Just feel, without any fear of being judged. She couldn’t know what that was worth to him. He just sat there on the floor listening to her words, as hollow as they felt right now, they still comforted him. He had someone beside him facing his problems, not hindering him.

“Thank you, Nas.” He managed finally. He believed her when she said there would be justice done. His tears stopped flowing, a feeling more like resolve overcoming him.

“If he is capable of… this. Then he  _ must  _ pay.” Suddenly, it clicked.

“Wait. Arnor… Arnor asked after my family name… Is he still rotting in a cage back in U’ldah?”

“We need to ask Mintori to find out for us.” Nasrinne replied immediately, following his train of thought. The Lalafell was already having the Sergeant watched, after all… but… |

“But even if he is still there, we can’t go skipping off back to Ul’dah to try and speak with Arnor without explaining something to Cessely…” She furrowed her brow again as she pondered this. They couldn’t just tell people Pascalle’s suspicions about his Father. They had no proof, and worse, what if people suspected he was somehow involved? No. Pascalle was innocent of  _ any _ wrong here. The last thing she was going to allow was for people to interrogate him…

“I know. I’ll take the job Cessely offered me. With the backing of the Adders, it shouldn’t be a problem for us to get in and see Arnor about the investigation. It’s simple enough for us to tell her we’re worried that Hemmet framed him and he has information that the Sergeant wants to get rid of. She already knows he’s been sending through false reports.” She looked back up at Pascalle, “Arnor might be able to help us narrow down the list of suspects here in Gridania too. If he knew of Fabrice’s connection to your Father, then he may know of others…”

“That seems to be the most prudent course of action. If we wish to petition the aid of the Captain Cessely and bring Arnor here for questioning. We  _ would _ have to formally secure the consent and cooperation of the Adders.” Pas crossed his arms over his chest, he knew she was right. The best way to do that would be to take the job offered her.

“You should do it. Arnor will likely be a trove of information and he did seem eager to have my ear in that cell. I’ll contact Jhuls and Mintori if you can get in touch with Cessely as soon as possible to organise a transfer.”

The pale smile she had worn before grew a little brighter, and quite impulsively she reached up, and gave his shoulder another little squeeze. It was a natural, spontaneous gesture. It brought him comfort. The truth was he didn’t know how to feel right now. Imprudent, livid, unhappy, and still somehow encouraged, all at once. Soon as he always did when he was ready, he would count his blessings one by one until they were ready to confront the challenges ahead of them, together. 

“I’ll get you some more water.” She said as she stood up, picking up his glass and heading back over to the pitcher. The smile disappeared from her face as she turned. The truth was, Nasrinne was furious. She kept remembering how she had felt when Jhulayne was missing. What Artreux had put his son through was infinitely more cruel than that. Surely that was why the Fury had them meet that evening. Surely Halone had set Jhulayne and her on the trail that would bring Pascalle the justice he so rightly deserved.  _ Very well, I’ll be a tool for the mover of glaciers. _ She thought to herself as she poured the water.  _ There are worse things to be in life _ . 

“Thank you.” Pascalle murmured to her shadow as he brought himself to the table taking his seat again. He felt physically drained, though determined to find a solution to bring him some answers. He fixed his posture and rolled his neck, closing his eyes trying to quiet his mind. His emotions would take some time to process. He could feel Artreux. No, his  _ father _ was behind this and if the proof was found, what would he have to do? He knew whatever it was, he needed to do it but what dangers would they face if they tried to stop him. He couldn’t stop hating his father, his problem. He had long loathed the man with every fibre of his being. But now, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful that after all this time there might be some way to show everyone the truth of what Artreux really was. 

He opened his eyes again looking up at Nasrinne as she handed him the glass. The room seemed a bit more beautiful than before.

“There will never be a better time to find the truth. He made a fool of me for years, but his family knows the truth. I know. I’ve seen it in the company he keeps, the way he treats people. The way he treats his family, like animals to be beaten into submission. But after all this time. After Mirielle. If we can  _ prove _ he was behind any of this, I can finally set us free.” 

\----


	6. Chapter 6

**_Adder’s Nest; Gridania_ **

  
_He’s your informant_ . Cessely had said to her, _it’s your job to make him talk_.

Nasrinne had never had an informant before. She’d also never _made_ someone talk. Honestly, the whole thing felt terribly nerve wracking. She realised, under any _other_ circumstances, she’d never want to do this. She _was_ just a noble’s daughter. She could shoot a bow, and strum a harp, and saddle a chocobo. She might have collected lots of bits and pieces of knowledge, and she might have a fondness for puzzles and stories.

But this wasn’t just a puzzle or a story, this was _real_.

Real criminals, real murders, real danger, real intrigue. And somehow, Pascalle had become entangled in the middle of all of it. Like a perfectly innocent fly in a spider’s web. Nasrinne hated spiders. Her hands felt clammy as she imagined them. She didn’t have time to be sweating about spiders. She drew a sharp little breath through her nose, glancing up toward Pascalle with a look that she hoped said, _everything’s fine_ . Was it though? No. But it _would_ be. She reminded herself. Then she opened the door.

This was the first time Pascalle had tried his hand at interrogation, he had some experience with questioning but never in an official setting such as this. It was usually petty criminals and drunks escalating things before he dragged them into a holding cell. _Don’t let him get to you._ He told himself as he swallowed hard, following her into the room.

The office Cessely loaned them for the purpose of their interview with Arnor was considerably larger than hers had been. And cleaner, too. There was a handsome, long, oak desk in the middle of the room. Surrounded by three chairs. Arnor was already seated in one of them. The other two sat vacant, waiting for them, on the opposite side of the desk.

Pascalle sat down in the chair opposite Arnor, glancing up at her. But Nasrinne didn’t sit.

“Tabor? That’s your name, isn’t it?” It was the same way he’d phrased the question to Pascalle in the cell in Ul’dah.

Arnor’s lips quirked into that barely perceptible smile.

“Ya still a clever little bitch, Aye” He said to her. “I been wondering how Hemmet mighta’ feel bout youse being little spies for the Adders?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Oh. But he do now, aye? Or ya’s think Hemmet’s covering up murders in Ul’dah all on his lonesome in tha Immortal Flames?” He waggled his finger at her playfully, “He be knowin tha second he turned the key in the lock of me cell.” He chuckled a little, before looking over toward Pascalle. “Glad ye be takin’ me warning, though. Much safer for this one out of Ul’dah.” He nodded his head toward Nasrinne without taking his gaze from Pascalle’s eyes. “Ye already peeped what be happening when Dione takes a fancy to some poor sod. And _he_ aint takin’ orders from ole Hemmet.” 

“Cut the shit, Tabor.” Pascalle barked. “Hemmet’s on borrowed time and you will be too if you don’t co-operate or we’ll have you on the next airship and send right _back_ to Ul’dah.” His hand hit the table, not too hard. Just enough to convey his point. (Nasrinne almost jumped at the sound.) “I’m glad you brought up that name. Dione.” He said to the pirate, icily.

 _Dione_. The one they had been so many steps behind. The one Fabrice had told them Amandine had left the Gold Saucer with. The one he’d been terrified was going to kill him. “Who does he take his orders from, then?” Pascalle needed to know if it was his Father. It was written all over his face.

Arnor held his arms out mockingly displaying nothing in front of him, a smirk played on his lips.

“A luvly show but, will ya though? Youse be _needin_ my help or I’d be a rottin’ in a cell in U’ldah.” He laughed again, turning his attention back to Nasrinne, his eyes narrowed, and head tilted playfully. “Tell me. How are you goin’ ta help me? You can’t be defying tha forces that control Dione, that be for sure.” 

“You have no idea what we can do, Arnor. Didn’t you learn that lesson last time we danced?” Nasrinne said to him smoothly as she sat down. “As to how we’ll help you, well that depends entirely on how much you’ll help us. So, let’s start with these _forces_. Let’s start with Fabrice, and why he was running from them. Because I think we’ve already established Amandine’s only crime was having bad taste in men.”

She crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair with arms folded. Lips set into a razor thin line.

“Fabrice mighta been a dodgy bastard, but he wasn’t cruel. Man was _meek_ .” Arnor said to her, “Usually, that be what would make for a good _employee_ in tha business.”

“What was that line of business?” She reached to her right for the notebook and quill that the Adders had set out for her before any of them arrived.

Pas leaned back in his chair with a chuckle at Nasrinne’s quip as she took a seat. For a self-confessed noble’s daughter, she had such control of the situation, her natural ability to objectively investigate coupled with this cold logic and razor wit that that she would unleash, he found it quite attractive as he watched her work Arnor into some answers. _Mind on the task at hand, Pascalle._

He looked toward Pascalle again, just a swift glance before he said his next words, then back toward Nasrinne.

“Slaves and pillow traffic.” He said, “Poison, drugs… ya know. _That_ business.”

The corners of her lips turned down slightly.

“Slaves, drugs and now _murder_?” Pas didn’t have much reason to disbelieve Arnor, he could tell he was speaking the truth of Fabrice at the very least, Rougecarpe; he was a meek man who was terrified for his life. He cast a glance toward Nasrinne silently calling on her to continue this line of questioning. “When we met you said he was out of a job and he told you it was by choice. So, I assume he’d stopped being a good employee?”

Arnor frowned a little himself,

“I cannae be dealin’ ‘im in, I cannae be offerin’ him protection.” He told them with a shrug, “The best I could do was spirit him off to Limsa afore either ‘ov youse two had any inkling what had happened that night…”

“You’re trying to tell me that’s why you and I’zuna poisoned us?” She cocked an eyebrow in obvious disbelief.

Pas scoffed at the idea that Arnor and I’zuna had poisoned them so as to spirit Fabrice away in the night.

“Of course, out of the good of your hearts.” He mocked him. He couldn’t have confidence that this man would do anything out of the good of his heart.

“Nay. I’zuna drugged ya up cause the mot had it in ‘er pretty head she was gonna use it ta get in with ole Hemmet and his Commander, start getting fat payouts from the Brotherhood, probably. But I already told her, I ain’t gonna to let ‘er turn Fabrice in.” He said, “I was just gonna to ship pretty boy over there back ta Ishgard.” He jerked his thumb toward Pascalle.

As Arnor clarified Pas grew aggravated, rising from his chair as he became more troubled

“The Brotherhood? Is this who you would have shipped me to in Ishgard, and what of Nasrinne? Just handed her over to Hemmet as a slave?” He pointed toward her. He was furious with all his anger directed toward Arnor he was becoming a hindrance. The more they spoke to him the more it seemed like his worst fears would come to fruition. 

“All knights be this fuckin’ daft, or is it just you, lad?” Arnor asked him with a mean grin, “Ya some sort of masochist, pretty boy? Aye. Ya wanna hear it all spelled out for ya? You’d be back with yer old man, and _she_ would be lucky if Hemmet was tha one she be gettin handed off to.”

“Now, now, Arnor. Let’s not go throwing barbs. You’re quite the pretty boy yourself, after all.” Nasrinne spoke coolly, doing her best to remain disaffected by the pirate’s backhanded jibes. This was a role, she had to play it. It was like performing a song. You couldn’t let one note go astray or the whole piece would fall flat. Only the notes were her emotions.

Pascalle narrowed his brows at that mean-spirited grin of Arnor’s.

 _See. You’ve already let him get the better of you._ He scolded himself, stopping short of asking how exactly he knew his ‘ _old-man’_. He folded his arms across his chest, his heel tapping on the floor subconsciously.

The pirate shook his head, “...Can’t make my mind up about you.” He muttered under his breath, as he watched Pascalle, watching him.

“You don’t need to.” Nasrinne told him crisply, snapping her fingers to draw his attention back toward her. “Why were you so fond of Fabrice?”

“Well, he was a meek one, but he wasn’t a _bastard_ .” Arnor said to her, “We had a gentleman’s agreement on… a business matter in Ul’dah. Now like I already told ‘im.” He nodded to Pascalle again, “I don’t be tradin’ in _people_.” He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter how good tha money be. But Fabrice… the fool walked a fine line, there.”

“Care to elaborate what the fine line is in the trade slave?” Nasrinne let her head cant to the left, fixing Arnor with a sceptical look.

“Send tha scum to Garleans. Send tha orphan girls to nice pillow houses.” He said it as simply as if he was talking about sugar and salt. “It be true to Rougecarpe, people we’re being reduced to gil. But he did keep a lick of honour ‘bout it. That be a _hard_ thing to do in his line of work.” He frowned a little, and for a moment it was as if a glimpse of _genuine_ emotion flickered across the pirate’s face.

“Anyway,” He sighed, “I loaned him a little money, did ‘im a favour. Back when he first be wanton’ ta fold. It’s Dione, see. Kid is Mad Dog Memort’s nephew. Got tha same… _vicious_ streak. Fabrice was pretty sure tha Brotherhood were on their way out of his main line of business. _People_ . And he being the fool he was, hoped to use the opportunity to slip away before he got _retired_. Stupid bastard should have listened to me and hopped a boat to bloody Hingashi straight off.”

“Who’s Mad Dog Memort?” Nasrinne asked, “Another member of the Brotherhood? An Ishgardian?” 

Nasrinne was doing much better at navigating this interview than he was. So, Pascalle stayed quiet, let her direct the pace. But now, her questions led them to something cement. A moniker he knew all too well. ‘ _Mad-Dog Memort_ .’ He felt the anger rising in his chest again. His fists clenched in fury. Maybe he _was_ too personally invested after all.

“Adrax.” There was a quiet seething to his tone. “You would have me dredge up some decidedly unsavoury memories.” He sighed heavily. But they were making progress, Arnor was helping them. He turned to her to explain. “Adrax Memort. That… cockroach of an Ishgardian was exiled from the House Dzemael. A feat in itself.” Pas gritted his teeth; Adrax had committed some truly heinous acts to manage to be exiled from such a cruel family. His punishment only really coming to fruition once it was obvious, he would cast them in a poor light. “Childhood friend of my Father, Artreux de Dubois, and… my swordsman instructor from the age of eight.” He swallowed the memories that flashed before his eyes as best he could. “The most I can say about the years that followed, is that I survived them.”

To think the man they had been chasing, Dione, was Adrax’s nephew. That meant his father was certainly wrapped up in all of this, because if Adrax was involved, his father’s hand was likely the one pulling the strings. 

Nasrinne looked toward Pascalle, her aloof demeanour faltering for a moment as her eyes brimmed with sympathy.

“ _Huh_.” The sound from Arnor was something like a conciliatory grunt. Even he looked somewhat remorsefully toward the knight as he spoke.

“Never met Memort. Only _heard_ ‘ov him. He be the sorta man ya hear stories ‘bout in this line of work. And yer mate Dione seems ta be a chip right off the old block.” He gave a gruff sigh. Looking between the two of them before he continued. “Look, I best be honest with ya. A piece like Dione makes things troublesome for a man like me. And when there be corruption in the forces that are supposed to bring a fiend like that one into line, well it just makes _more_ trouble for me. Kinda like walkin about on broken glass. Too easy to be gettin’ stuck by sumthin’ that ya had no part in breaking in tha first place.” He spread his hands before him again, “Aye, I don’t be havin’ tha sort of power and money that pays off guards. So. Here I be. A perfect scapegoat.”

“But the Brotherhood has that power,” She pressed him, “and you’re willing to say Dione is a part of this network?”

“Aye. Could probably give ya _more_ than Dione, if yer really dumb enough to go after this ‘network’ as youse keep callin’ it. But what _good_ will that be doin’ me?” He asked her again, circling back to the beginning of their conversation. Nasrinne gave a heavy sigh.

“There’s a diplomat coming from Ishgard.” She said to him. “He’ll arrive within the day. If you agree to help the Adders deal with these disappearances and murders in the Shroud, I _may_ be able to convince him to provide you diplomatic immunity to quash the charges against you in Ul’dah.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked across at Arnor, “But I’m not putting my neck, or _his_ neck, on the line for someone who’ll play a cad and not pay up.”

Pas knew how dangerous this was already. The words spoken of Adrax from Arnor’s mouth were not surprising to him in the slightest. “That bastard has spilt enough blood to fill a loch. If Dione is the nephew of Adrax, as you say you’re the perfect scapegoat. You won't be safe until he’s locked away or dead.” He wasn't trying to goad the man, just reinforce Nasrinnes point. “Help us bring them in, help yourself _.” And help me_. He would force him to if it came to it. 

She pushed the paper and quill toward him across the desk, “So, prove to me you’re not that person. Write me down everything you know about Dione. Then, sign it.”

\----

**_Carline Canopy; Gridania_ **

The agreement with Arnor was simple. Right now, they needed to bring in Dione, and whoever was helping him. From there, they could ascertain _why_ certain Ishgardians had gone missing abroad only to turn up dead at a later date. They wouldn’t bandy about names like _Dubois_ and _Memort_ yet, because they needed _proof_ that such people were actually connected anyway. What good was the word of a pirate really? Once they had some substantial evidence, then perhaps they could ‘speak’ with Arnor again to ‘acquire’ that information.

Nasrinne took a deep breath as she and Pascalle walked around the outside of the Canopy buildings. They had decided to watch for Jhulayne’s ship, it gave them a modicum of privacy to talk about well… everything. But also, sort of nothing. Since they danced around all the things pressing on their minds.

She picked up a rock from the ground, hefting it in her hand experimentally before she tossed it, skimming it over the surface of the little stream.

Pascalle watched the stone skip along the waters, almost making it to the other side, then the momentum stopped, sinking under its own weight and disappearing below the surface. He felt a little bit like that stone, trying it’s best to push forward but ever closer to sinking just as the end is in sight.

“I used to love skimming stones.” She told him, “It’s why Father decided I’d do well with archery. A good eye, he said.” She chuckled, looking up toward Pascalle, feeling suddenly guilty for even mentioning the fact. It must feel awful to hear people talk about their Father’s and their happy memories, when he had none of his own. “Remember, Pas, you get to decide what we tell Jhus about… _things_.” She said, keeping it purposefully vague, because she knew he would know exactly what she meant. “If you want to wait until we have some solid proof in our hands, I wouldn’t judge you. It’s sensible to do that… you can’t rely on everyone to trust what you tell them at face value. Even though I don’t think Jhuls would doubt you for a second, I understand if you want to wait. I’m not going to tell him anything.” She said this quiet solemnly as she looked out toward the horizon to see if there was any sign of the bright, yellow balloons of Tristione’s airship. It was a solemn thing, to agree to keep something from Jhuls. She hardly kept anything from him.

He watched her as her eyes lay on the horizon keeping an eye for her brother’s arrival.

“It’s not my decision to make, is what I’m saying, and whatever you decide. I’ll respect it.” She looked back toward him with a smile, “I trust you.” She added, although she wasn’t sure why. The thing was, she hadn’t really _told_ him as much before, but she honestly did. It was true, and she thought, perhaps knowing it might put his mind at ease some. 

“I know, I trust you too.” Pascalle had always thought that trust must come before love, yet it hadn’t been the case with Nasrinne. Love and trust seemed to arrive at the very same moment. “It’s alright, Nas. Of all people, I can trust Jhulayne with this truth.” He meant that, Jhulayne was always there for him, an ear to listen and even a shoulder to cry on. He already knew of the cruelty laid upon Pas as a young man, at least to a small extent.

There was something about the swift and candid way he replied to her. _I trust you too_. The words made her feel diffident, suddenly. Bashful. She turned her face back toward the sky, sighing, despite her best efforts. 

The trickle of the stream was soothing. It was a good idea to wait out here in the sunshine, Pascalle thought, still watching her. “Soon, my best friend and our most potent ally will arrive. We’ll be able to do this the right way, Nas. As much as I would just cut these heathens down where they stand… I can’t. Violence will ever beget violence.” 

“Violence will ever beget violence.” She repeated thoughtfully.

 _Well, then we’re all doomed. This whole world is built on violence._ She mused to herself. Though she didn’t say it aloud. Nasrinne knew better than to say anything morbid right now, no matter how rational it was. Pascalle didn’t really need rationality at the moment. He needed hope. She gave a little hum, drawing one of her customary breaths through her nose before she spoke again. Carefully sorting through all the many things, she wanted to say, and shouldn’t say. And the things she perhaps could say but really, what was the point of saying them?

He could tell there was more Nasrinne wished to ask by that breath she drew as she knelt in search of another makeshift projectile. He was growing accustomed to that sound, what it meant. But in all honesty he was glad she didn’t, there would be more than enough draining conversation to go around once Jhulayne had arrived.

“Where do you want to talk to Jhuls about it?” She asked him as her eyes searched for another stone. “He’ll be needing a room, so you can always broach it while we’re helping him get settled in. Before we meet with Cessely, and Arnor.” She knelt down, brushing away some leaves and picking up another smooth, brown stone. “Or we can do it after.” She added, dusting the dirt off her prize by wiping it on the front of her pants. She held it out toward him to take with a slightly lopsided grin. It was a good rock. She could tell by the weight of it. Five skips at least, but with arms as strong as Pascalle’s there was a good chance for seven, or so she estimated.

“No. I owe it to Jhuls to tell him now Before.” He took the smooth brown stone from her hand. He turned it around in his hand a few times. Then he flashed her a smile, beaming as he turned quickly. Twisting on his heel, arm swung low. When was the last time he skipped stones? Had he ever even really done it as a child? He wondered as the rock left his fingers at the apex of his throw and — _thwoom —_ slicing toward the water in a spinning motion as it bounced. Seven. Eight. Nine times. Then it sank, almost at the other side of the riverbed.

“Nine!” She laughed, well, that was better than she expected. She decided to take it as a sign of good things to come. “I think that’s the best I’ve ever seen.”

 _Pshaw_ . He waved her away, turning his head. Avoiding her gaze in embarrassment. _The best she’s ever seen She says_.

“It was just a fluke...” He chuckled not really knowing how to take the compliment. It wasn’t as if he ever got many of those. Praise was hard to come by back home. When he looked up he was beaming back at her. 

She was beaming too, as she looked up at his smiling face. But she could see the shadow of his secret there now, she almost wondered how she’d never realised before what an act it all was. No one could truly be as happy and jovial and carefree as Pascalle managed to pretend to be to everyone around him. Even she had been fooled, really. She would have never imagined the truth that lay behind that smile. Nasrinne prided herself on being an excellent liar. But he put her to shame.

“I’ll just have to put him up at the Roost. We’re going to have to keep leaning on Jhuls for support and see if we can’t find a solution together. It’s the least I could do.” Just over Nasrinne’s shoulder Pas spotted the bright, yellow balloons of Tristione’s airship. He pointed over her shoulder with a nod. 

Her gaze followed the line of his hand, her eyes falling upon the familiar ship,

“Come on, let's head up and meet him.”

Pas found a comfortable spot to wait, leaned up against one of the wooden columns throughout the landing. Nasrinne, standing just in front of him, her weight shifting impatiently from foot to foot. They weren’t waiting too long for the ship to dock.

Jhulayne was first down the gangway, of course. Spotting his sister and sweeping her into a one-sided hug which came complete with a hair tousle. (Predictably, eliciting a pout from his sister.)

“There’s my clever little bird.” He said, “Look at you, Yggy would die if she saw that much neck exposed.” He joked before he turned his grinning face to Pascalle.

“Bloody good to see you Paz, and look at you, you lanky bastard. I almost didn’t recognise you out of that tin can suit.”

He watched the two siblings’ loving exchange with a warm smile on his face. Even though Nasrinne was pouting he could tell she was ecstatic to see her older brother, as was he. 

Jhulayne ignored Pascalle’s politely extended hand, pulling him in with his one good arm for a hug as well.

“Jhuls!” He said, squeezing his friend in a tight embrace, resting a hand on each of his shoulders after he let go, looking at him with a mixture of emotions that Jhulayne was still too busy playing clown to notice yet.

“Doesn’t he look handsome in the cut of that shirt, Nas.” He elbowed his sister in the ribs as he said it, and her pout swiftly returned.

“Don’t pout little bird,” Jhulayne laughed at her. “Even knight’s like to hear they look handsome sometimes.”

“Handsome?” Pascalle laughed, barely noticing the jibe between brother and sister as he grasped Jhulayne’s lapels, “As do you, old friend. They must have a pricy tailor on the payroll to have pulled off that feat?” The two of them burst out laughing at the joke, and Nasrinne’s pout began to face once more as she watched them both.

At that moment, one of Tristione’s men arrived with Jhulayne’s bag in tow.

“Lord Filois, shall I have your luggage sent over to the company barracks, or do you know where you’ll be staying already?”

“That’s a good question,” He said, looking toward his sister. “Where am I staying, Nas?”

“Shouldn’t you be more prepared, being an elite politician now?” Pascalle taunted, giving a slightly exaggerated sigh.

“ _Diplomat_.” Jhulayne corrected, as Pascalle took his bags from the porter.

“What’s the point of having a bloody encyclopedia for a sister, if she doesn’t know everything for me?” Jhulayne jested as they headed for the front desk.

Pascalle glanced toward Nasrinne, giving her a slight roll of his eyes.

“I saw that!”

Nasrinne giggled, slightly more girlishly than she had intended to. Then slapped her hand quickly across her mouth. Jhulayne was clearly about to make something of this, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Let’s get you set up at the Roost then.” Pascalle said, “I have a few things to discuss before we head to the Company Barracks…”

“Still, staying at the Roost, ay Nas? How’d you pay for that? Adder’s set it up?”

Nasrinne gave a little sigh before she answered,

“Pascalle did.” She replied,

“Did he now?” Jhulayne was clearly about to make something of this, but Nasrinne’s smile seemed to say _not so fast_.

“He’s paying for yours too.” She smirked, enjoying the shade of pale that crept across her brother’s face.

It didn’t take them long to settle Jhuls in, Nasrinne was quiet as she followed in behind Pas. There were only two seats, so she perched herself on the corner of the desk.

“Alright, what did you want to talk about?” Jhuls asked him after they’d all made themselves comfortable. “Is it how I’m supposed to pay you back for this bloody room?” He joked, but there was something about Nasrinne’s expression that told him this wasn’t really the time for jokes.

“Don’t worry about the room…” She said softly, looking toward Pascalle with more a hint of concern in them, “Pas?” She said his name, but that wasn’t really the question she was asking him. The question was _are you sure? Are you sure you’re ready to do this?_ But she wouldn’t say anymore than that.

Jhulayne’s ears pricked at the way his sister said that name. He could tell there was something _else_ behind the simple word. But more than that. It was Nasrinne’s face. She was worried, so very worried. It was hard to tell with Nasrinne, because she was good at hiding her emotions. (Well, most of them.) But when she was worried, there were small tell-tale signs that a brother grew to recognise. The left corner of her lips would turn downwards, just slightly. And her eyes always seemed just a touch darker. And when she was very worried, she would do this thing where she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped the pointer finger of each hand against her biceps, alternating them. Right, left, right left. Like she was a metronome keeping the invisible beat of her heart.

She was doing it right now.

Jhulayne frowned a little, looking between the two of them. He almost wanted to ask; _Paz, have you knocked up my sister?_ But somehow, it didn’t seem like Nasrinne was really worried about _her_. His green eyes settled finally on Pascalle,

“What is it, brother?” He asked in a rare, serious, tone of voice. 

“It’s not about the room. I mean not to worry you.” Pas shifted in his chair, not sure how to begin. His fingers started to drum along the table, as he did when he was anxious. “We’ve found a promising lead into the investigation…”

By the time Pascalle had finished speaking, Jhulayne’s face was like a waterfall. A crashing wave. Nasrinne wondered if that was how she’d looked when she had that same realisation. He stood, taking a half-pace away from his seat and then stopping, looking between her and Pascalle.

“That’s what you were trying to tell Nasrinne. At Yggy’s house.” He concluded finally, his lips drawing into a thin line as he looked at his sister. He fell silent for a moment, mulling over his words. Then he turned to face his friend.

“Blood is a small matter of things when it comes down to it, Pascalle…” He swallowed, Jhulayne had the least trouble of any of them when it came to speaking about feelings. But even he found it hard to think of the right words here. “In my heart you have always been a brother to me.” He looked him in the eyes as he spoke, “I give you my word, on my family’s honour. We will get to the bottom of all of this, and no matter who ends up caught out; no matter who it is. It wouldn’t change that.” He cleared his throat, behind his hand. “I just... I feel like I should tell you that. Now. Before anything goes along any further.”

“Words cannot well express what that means to me.” He said softly, sunk into his chair. He almost felt like the only thing propping him up at that moment was Nasrinne’s hand. When had she placed that there? When he had to explain his suspicions about his Father? About Mirielle. He couldn’t remember, truly. He couldn’t remember if he had even spoken any of it without the gentle, reassuring grasp of her hand right there. He glanced toward her as he spoke, “That there are those who care deeply for my well-being.” 

Jhulayne stopped pacing, looking at them both and Nasrinne finally took her hand off Pascalle’s shoulder, letting out a breath she’d barely realised she was holding.

“We can trust Captain Cessely. I knew her before she climbed the ranks. She used to be stationed out in Fallgourd.” He explained.

“You’re right, we can trust her. She speaks plainly, _and_ she already believes this investigation is being compromised somehow.” Nasrinne nodded,

“If you both place your trust in the Captain, so will I.” Pascalle agreed, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment.

“The only thing is… I… well… I _may_ have suggested to Arnor that we could provide him… _diplomaticimmunityfromthechargesbroughtagainsthimbytheFlames_.”

“What in the name of the Fury did you just mumble?” Jhulayne furrowed his brow. “Say it bloody slowly, Nasrinne.”

She let out a sigh, turning to look out the window, wincing in anticipation as she spoke the words again.

“I may have told Arnor that you’ll grant him diplomatic immunity from the charges brought against him by the Flames.”

“You told him _what!?_ ”

Nasrinne was already wincing.

“I can’t believe you. _Nasrinne_.” He gave an audible sigh that was actually just her name. “How can I? That’s not the sort of thing…” Jhulayne groaned.

\----


	7. Chapter 7

**_Adder’s Nest; Gridania_ **

Captain Cessely met them at the Adder’s Nest, greeting them with a stiff serpent’s salute. Nasrinne wondered if she was supposed to be doing that now.

“ _ Captain _ Cessely.” Jhulayne said to her, emphasizing the  _ captain _ . After which the two of them shared in a bout of laughter which had Nasrinne glancing toward Pascalle with a quizzical expression.

“Honestly, Cess.” Jhulayne said to her, “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to congratulate you on the promotion in person.”

“It’s good to see you again, Jhuls.” Cessely laughed, clearly not at all bothered by Jhulayne’s complete and utter lack of protocol.

“So, how’d you like my sister? Eh? Just as sharp as I said she was? That’s how she got her nickname you know.” Her brother had already fallen in line beside the Captain, heading toward her office.

“Does she ever get sick of what a twat you are?”

“Wait, you  _ know _ Captain Cessely?” Nasrinne interjected.

Jhulayne paused, looking behind him.

“I just said that to you Nas.” He shook his head, “I told you she was stationed at Fallgourd. Are you doing this on purpose just because I said you were sharp just now? Are you trying to make me look daft in front of Cess?”

“But. You…” She turned to look at Captain Cessely, “You didn’t say you  _ knew _ my brother... personally knew him… at any point…”

Pascalle couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion.

“You should know better than most this man will make a friend of anyone given even half a day together” As he waggled his finger at Jhuls with a sly smile on his lips. Captain Cessely looked at her, amused.

“If I had told you that I was friends with your brother, you would have had a preconception about how I handle my investigations. Besides, I was offering you a ranking position in the Company. I wanted to see how what you told me stacked up with what you’d told your brother. A good investigator should hold a certain loyalty towards  _ solving _ a case, after all.” 

She shrugged, turning back to Jhulayne, briefing him on the list of suspects of Ishgardians involved with alchemy and botany living within the borders of the Shroud.

Nasrinne frowned a little, looking up at Pascalle. 

“I can’t decide if I’m bothered by that, or I think that’s very sensible.” She confessed her thoughts to him in a hushed voice as they followed behind.

He gave her an empathetic smile,  
“It does seem sensible… in retrospect. But…” He trailed off as she nodded. He didn’t need to say anything. It was hard not to feel slightly deceived after they’d already had so much difficulty placing their trust in authority.

Cessely’s office looked exactly as it had before. Even the storage bench was still in the same place.

“When are they going to give you your own office, Cess?” Jhulayne tutted as he pulled the chair from behind the ever-absent Captain Hastaleyan desk over to the corner of Cessely’s.

“Maybe after I bring down some Ishgardian bankrolled crime ring murdering citizens across the land?” She replied glibly, taking her seat.

“Right, let’s get this bloody Arnor’s charges in Ul’dah out of the way. What are they?” He asked her, quite seriously.

“Well, smuggling mostly. Illegal and stolen goods.” She replied, taking out the file they had received from the Flames. “A lot of it is  _ suspected _ . That is… look, there’s no bloody doubt the pirate’s done what’s on that sheet and more besides. But pirates are a slippery lot. It’s hard to pin them to the crimes they commit, or so they say. Don’t get many pirates in the Twelveswood though, do we?” Cessely shook her head as she handed the file off to Jhulayne, “But they’ve only got him tied to a stolen shipment of Doman wine, and a number of illicit substances that were found in his safehouse in Ul’dah after his arrest.”

Pascalle’s head cocked back in surprise.

“Wine?” It seemed to indicate Arnor was more a thief of opportunity than anything else. Pas hummed as his finger tapped on the corner of his mouth as he watched Jhulayne flipping through the report. “So, after they investigated his assets, they found the wine for which he had no manifest or records of?”

“How much wine are we talking about?” Julayne asked her,

“Who did he steal the wine from?” Nasrinne added.

Cessely laughed, seemingly unperturbed as they peppered her with questions.

“How much wine can fit in the hull of a ship?” She said, looking first to Nasrinne. “Apparently the one docked in Limsa is full of it. As for  _ who _ he stole it from. It  _ looks _ like he might have stolen it from the East Aldenard Trading Company.” Cessely said, “But so far, they haven’t been able to get confirmation from Hingashi. because it’s not exactly a short trip for a Flame’s Attache to make.” She shrugged again. “After your run in with Arnor, the Flames investigated his Ul’dah warehouse, a few items of contraband were discovered after which the Flames contacted the Maelstrom and his ship was searched at the Limsa Docks. Pretty standard procedure really.” Pas nodded along, wondering how Hemmet fit into all of this and how safe Arnor really was.

“So right now, the Doman wine is the only  _ official _ crime they can charge him with, other than some petty contraband? What was that exactly?” Nasrinne asked Cessely as they rose from their hodge-podge seating arrangement. 

“Well belladonna, obviously. Though not distilled and prepared for use in poisons. Fogweed, Milkroot… recreational stuff.” The Captain frowned and gave a little shrug, “The more concerning part is the dreamflower, it’s used to make somnus and if they can prove he’s peddling  _ that _ , he’s done for.”

“It’s also a powerful medicinal sedative though.” Nasrinne replied swiftly, “ _ Not _ that I’m suggesting Arnor is a chirurgeon in disguise. I just simply mean the recreational uses of all those plants are not their  _ only _ uses.” She glanced toward Jhulayne, who was no longer glowering at her, his face now drawn into a more resigned expression.

“Wine and medicine…” he murmured, following the crumbs she was scattering. “Right.” He sighed, straightening his lapels before pushing open the door to the interview room.

Arnor was waiting there just as before, leaning back in his wooden chair so the front legs lifted slightly from the floor.

“Yeh you must be tha diplomat.” He said.

“Lord of Ishgard, diplomatic envoy to Gridania and the Black Shroud. Says here you’re a lord.” He shook the papers he was holding, “So what are you a lord of then?”

Arnor looked at Jhulayne, his face nothing but a blank slate.

“The seas.” He replied simply.

Nasrinne had to try and hide her smirk.

“Right.” Jhulayne said, “You can have that one, because I sort of walked right into it didn’t I.” He cast a sidelong glance toward the rest of them. “Well, which one of you is taking the notes? Write down what the man said. Lord of the Seas.”

Cessely shrugged, sitting down and immediately pulling over the waiting pad and quill to start jotting it down.

“So, Lord Tabor. You were questioned by two representatives of the Holy See, earlier.” Jhulayne continued, “I’d like you to walk me through what you told them.”

Arnor had begun to crack a slight smile as he had watched this little exchange. He gave a shrug, and then began to recount what he had told Nasrinne and Pascalle earlier.

Normally the witty exchange with the pirate at Jhulayne’s expense would have had Pascalle at least chuckling. But there was too much on his mind, and too much at stake. He furrowed his brow as Arnor recounted the information he had given them already. Silent, his eyes often darting over toward Nasrinne. As if to gauge her reactions to the heinous crimes as they were listed out for him again.

“So you could identify this Dione, if you saw him?” Jhulayne asked. Arnor nodded, “And what about other individuals involved in this so-called,  _ brotherhood _ … what are they a brotherhood of anyway?”

“Profit.” The pirate said, somewhat dryly. “I know ‘ov a few other fools who mighta ‘ave had the same stupid ideas in their head as Zuna…” He glanced down at the desk in front of him as he said the name, his frown deepening. “Me, I’ve been round a while, had plenty ov bright-eyed opportunists come an go. Ya  _ can _ leave me line of work if you want to. So as long as ya be workin’ for tha right person.”

_ Brotherhood of profit.  _ It certainly fit Artreux’s modus operandi. He could see the look on Arnors face as he mentioned I’zuna. He had lost much, he didn’t want to lose any more. Finally, Pascalle spoke. “But I’zuna wasn’t working for the right person. Neither was Fabrice nor I suspect, were you.”

Arnor looked up from the table, turning a scowl in Pascalle’s direction.

“So, tha pretty lord does speak.” He let out a sharp, short laugh. “Don’t ye be presumin’ ya know anything about me work.” He crossed his arms and looked at Nasrinne. “Why do ya keep ‘im round, he’s too dumb to pour piss out of a boot with the instructions printed on the heel.” After his jibe he did not wait a moment before turning back and mocking Pas to his face. “Do ya need me ta spell it out for ya, boy? Cannae see what’s even happening in your own house.  _ Lord Dubois _ ? Surprised  _ she _ ain’t turned up dead yet.” He pointed a thumb back in Nasrinnes direction. 

Nasrinne didn’t look at Pascalle’s face as Arnor spoke. Or her brother’s. Or even Captain Cessely. She didn’t take her eyes from the pirate’s face. Those deep, dark pools of blue that sometimes could almost seem  _ black _ . This was one of those times.

“Do you need  _ me _ to spell it out for  _ you _ , Arnor?” She didn’t raise her voice as she said it. But there was something dangerous about the way she spoke. “Do you know why you’re even  _ here _ ? It’s because  _ Pascalle _ realised your value as an informant. It’s that  _ pretty boy _ sitting there you have to thank that you’re sitting here at all.” There was a power lurking somewhere beneath that placid tone. A surety in the way she spoke, the way she enunciated each word. “Those papers sitting there say you’ve got dreamflowers in your warehouse in Ul’dah.” She nodded to the file that sat in front of her brother. “What do you think will happen to  _ you _ , if we send you back to Ul’dah and the  _ Flames _ ?” The way she said it, the double meaning was implied. Hemmet was waiting for him back in Ul’dah. And there was no way he wouldn’t find himself burned by the Sergeant the moment he stepped foot back in the city. “We’ve been talking a lot about everyone else, Arnor. But let’s talk about you a little bit, as Pascalle suggests. First of all, you’re a competitor of the Brotherhood. This much is obvious because you’ve told us Fabrice came to you for help to get out. But you couldn’t offer him a job.  _ You _ were however, willing to spirit him away to Limsa Lominsa and your ship. Which means you obviously feel secure enough there to be able to keep the Brotherhood from snapping at your heels.”

“So what?” He said,

“So. It’s important we consider that. After all, if you worked for someone else you’d need to worry about how they’d feel about you bringing someone marked for death to their secure base of operations. But you weren’t concerned about that, because you hatched the plot with I’zuna on the fly.” She was always animated when she thought through things, she raised a finger as she finished speaking, and then, very swiftly raised another.

Arnor looked up at her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I’zuna is another factor we need to consider when determining where you sit in the hierarchy. You told Pascalle you hired her for  _ your _ private parties. Not your employers. So obviously, you host the sort of parties that need highly skilled entertainment. Fancy parties. If you could afford to work with I’zuna.” Two points, her fingers seemed to be saying.

“Who fuckin’ cares if I be wastin’ my own coin on fancy parties? I’m starting to think you’re as stupid as him.”

“Wait.” Nasrinne said to him, raising a third finger. “Lastly, is the matter of what Hemmet said. He said he’d been after you for a long time, and you were set to be a real feather in his cap. Now the records the Flames have are your  _ only _ records in Ul’dah. Which means that you weren’t wanted there for any crimes the Flames were investigating. You were wanted for another reason. For the Brotherhood. You’d be a feather in Hemmet’s cap because you’re the head of their main rival in  _ business _ . Not  _ all _ business. As you’ve taken such care to point out to us. But  _ enough _ to mean that giving Fabrice a job would have painted a target on your back you didn’t need. And  _ enough _ to have had  _ your _ people poached by theirs. That’s why you know so much about them.” She folded her arms across her chest as she finished. Looking at him calmly, awaiting his reply.

“Clever, clever bitch. That’s what ya think you be.”

“I don’t  _ think _ it. Arnor. I  _ know _ it.” She said without missing a beat.

“ _ Hey! _ ” Jhulayne said, reflexively. Captain Cessely put her quill down, looking over at Nasrinne with a hint of a smile.

Hearing Jhulayne interject as Arnor called his sister a bitch finally brought a smile to Pascalle’s lips. He knew he didn’t need to say anything, Nasrinne had the pirate right where they wanted him. There was only one word for how Pascalle felt as Nasrinne tore through Arnor’s argument with cold thorough logic. Enthralled.

“Listen to me,  _ Lord of the Seas _ .” She continued ignoring her brother, pressing her palm softly on the desk and leaning toward him across the table. “The way I see it, you’ve got two options right now. You can either agree to provide us the information we’re asking for,  _ or _ , I can have Captain Cessely send you back to Ul’dah and you can lead us to it  _ anyway _ . So, which will it be?” Nasrinne asked, a slightly smug smile playing on her lips.

Arnor’s narrowed eyes darted between Pascalle and her for a moment. He gave a little scoff. It was an indignant sound, but it was still defeated.

“That’s what I thought.” She said, rising to her full height and looking down at the Hyur, who had finally stopped swinging in his chair.

Now she looked toward Pasalle, then at Jhulayne and Cessely.

Jhualyne was looking up at his sister, unable to hide the fact that he was obviously impressed.

“On to the list of names, then.” He said, clearing his throat.

Arnor let out a grumble then barked at Cessely,    
“Well if you want me to get on with it, give me the bloody list.” He snapped his fingers at her, taking his frustration out in any way he could. Trying to save some modicum of control in the situation.

Cessely just chuckled at him shaking her head, sliding the list of names. “Out with it Tabor.” 

_ Lord of the seas, indeed.  _ _   
_ “It’s hard giving up the authority, is it Captain?” Pas butted in with a smirk. Not especially helpful but he felt he deserved to rub it in a little. Arnor grumbled a few words under his breath as he started to read out the names.

He ran his finger down the list as he spoke the names aloud. “Louis de Bonvouloir. Alexandre Achard. François d'Aguesseau…” he became quiet, “Ebrynne Monvieve.”

his head cocked to the side looking directly at Nasrinne, his finger tapping on desk. “Brynne. I’ve crossed paths with her and I’d rather not again. One of Adrax’s based out of the Shroud.” He let out a harsh sigh. 

“Can you tell us what she looks like?” Nasrinne pressed. “Give us a description.”

“Brown hair, about seventy odd ilms tall…” Arnor began. Cessely dutifully transcribed it all down and then looked back up at Jhulayne.

“I’ll get the squad onto this now.” She told him as she stood up, “I’m sure Ishgard’s representatives can handle the rest of their informants fate.” She kept the smirk off her face, but you could hear her amusement plain in her voice.    
  
A sweet smile crossed Pascalle’s face as the captain voiced her authority on that decision. The irony of the lying pirate being caught out by Nasrinne’s trap was far too amusing to him.

“Right…” Jhulayne said with a nod, glancing between Pascalle and Nasrinne as the Captain left.

“Kind of bitter-sweet, isn’t it  _ Arny _ ?” Pas moved into the chair Cessely had just vacated,

“I’ve done me part in yer little suicide pact.” Arnor spat at them. "What are ye gonna do for me ‘bout them charges in Ul’dah?” He pointed at Nasrinne, “ _ She _ be throwin’ ‘bout all sortsa promises,  _ diplomatic immunity _ . That be what the little bitch said.”

Jhulayne frowned,   
“Hey, hey. You’re not getting anything if you keep calling my sis-”

“He can call me what he wants.” Nasrinne shrugged, cutting him off, “It’s all bark and no bite from him, I’ve seen how he holds a sword.”

Arnor gave a hearty laugh,   
“Your sister, eh?” He said, “Well you best keep your eye on that one.” He nodded to Pascalle. “Or hasn’t he told you how he be fittin’ into everything?”

“Shut up. Arnor.” Nasrinne sighed, looking at Jhulayne with a slightly disappointed frown.  _ Honestly, you just gave me away, Jhuls.  _ “You can’t play anyone in this room off against each other.”

Pascalle leaned forward his elbows thudding on the table. Eyes narrowed at the pirate, no more emotion on his face. He’d already laid his heart bare to them both and there was nothing that this man could hold over his head.

“Right.” He nodded to Nas. “Shut up  _ Arnor _ . You’ve nothing to turn us against each other. You’d best start thinking about your own situation.”

“And yes, I already know  _ everything _ .” Jhulayne said, pursing his lips into a pout as he looked at Arnor. One eyebrow lofted; almost haughtily. It was an expression so reminiscent of Nasrinne’s that only a fool wouldn’t realise they were related. “More than you, anyway.” He waved him off, turning his attention back to his sister. “We can’t give a pirate diplomatic immunity, Nas.” He said,

“Well then what  _ ye plannin’ on doing for ole Arnor’s benefit _ ?” Arnor huffed, looking around at the three of them, with a slightly twitchy expression.

“I’m thinking.” Nasrinne snapped at him.  “Wine… milkroot, fogweed… belladonna… dreamflowers.” She murmured to herself as she paced away from the table toward Pascalle. Her fingers tapping out an imaginary beat in the air beside her as she thought. “Dreamflowers, wine, milkroot, fogweed…” she muttered again. “What’s the wine made from? Besides grapes. Do you know?”

A rnor was looking at her as if she had gone mad.

“I mean… not really… they be puttin all sorts of crap in wine fa flavour, don’t they? I’m hardly a sommelier.”

“Did you drink some?”

“Of course I did. Seven Hells, I ‘ad ta be makin’ sure it was actually wine worth taking, and not piss. Didn’t I?”

“What did it taste like? Was it a bit spicy?”

“Aye? Why does that matter? And what’s  _ that  _ got to do with what youse are gonna to do fer  _ me? _ ” Arnor placed a hand on his chest.

Pascalle wasn’t sure where Nasrinne was going with this. There was a good argument that the plants were medicinal… but the wine?

  
“Shut. Up. Arnor.” He said the words forcefully. “She’s trying to think of a way to assist your current predicament, you dolt.” Rolling his eyes at the pirate before turning to look at Nas.    
“Although… Spicy wine? What’s going on in that head of yours Nasrinne?”

“Star anise.” She replied absentmindedly to Pascalle’s question. “Hingan medicine uses it… though you probably know it’s taste from the mulled wine they serve at the Knight.” 

“Shh.” Jhulayne advised quietly, “Or she’ll snap at one of us soon, for ruining her concentration.”

Arnor shut up finally. Watching Nasrinne along with the rest of them.

Nasrinne must  _ really _ trust Pascalle to just, well… behave like  _ herself _ in front of him. Arnor was inconsequential, because he was part of Nasrinne’s problem. Just another piece of the puzzle she was moving around. Another note she was experimenting with, switching up and down an octave. Or maybe she simply thought of Pascalle that way too.

He  _ was _ another part of the problem in a way. Not in the way Arnor was trying to suggest. Jhulayne had rarely seen his friend so rattled and quick to anger as he had whilst sitting in this room. Pascalle had a great deal on his mind, a great deal he was used to avoiding. Jhulayne felt a little guilty, but he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he should suggest to Pas he quit the mission. If Artreux was capable of what he’d told them he was then… He glanced up toward his little sister. A cold feeling gripped his stomach, just as she spun to look at him.

“Tris supplies an apothecary in Ul’dah doesn’t he?” She asked him. He nodded. “The problem is the paperwork of course…” She was only half explaining things, “But it could be done. Although.” She looked at Arnor with a glint of something in her eye. “Couldn’t just  _ let _ things slip away from us again…”   


“Ye not making any sense, ye stupid bint.” The pirate sighed at her.

“We can’t grant him diplomatic immunity, you’re right. We’ll just have to grant him a title, you know. Take him on as a ward. You’re head of the family, technically.”

  
“ _ Nasrinne _ . What  _ lands _ are you going to make him a steward of? Eight feet of bloody snow and ice?” Jhulayne gave her a thoroughly unimpressed glance, “I’m beginning to think he’s right. What he just called you.” He pointed at Arnor. Who immediately laughed, (though who could blame him?)

Nasrinne ignored it.

“Lands in La Noscea.” She replied, turning to look back at Arnor. “I’ll buy your wine, and your…  _ medicinal _ herbs. You’ll use the money to buy a small property somewhere to store it. Somewhere with a big bloody barn, obviously. Because apparently you packed your hull with it.”

“Spent so bloody long dredging it up from the wreck, couldn’t justify leaving a bottle behind.” The pirate sighed again.

“So that’s why there isn't a manifest.” She gave an amused little scoff, “Well, we’re going to create a manifest. Pascalle, can you ask Mintori to help us? He knows plenty about that sort of rubbish. I can have Tristione talk to the apothecary he supplies about sending over some recipes with the raw ingredients that were found in Arnor’s warehouse in Ul’dah…”

“So what, you’re just going to… fabricate some family assets?” Jhulayne asked her,

“No, they are our assets. I’m buying them off Arnor right now. He’s going to get us a nice place to keep them, and  _ swear _ to our family that he’ll take good care of them for us. Just like we did for the Fortemps before us. Aren’t you going to do that for us, Lord Tabor?”

Arnor, for his part, was looking quite confused. But that was hardly surprising, one didn’t usually expect to become the small Lord of an estate while sitting at an interrogation table.

\----

**_Gridania; Twelveswood_ ** **  
**   
Pascalle was chatting with the bar keep. Nasrinne watched the easy smile as it spread across his lips, wondering what they were talking about. Wines? The best dishes on the menu?

“Nas.” Jhulayne’s voice cut through the buzz of chatter in the bar’s common room, pulling her from her idle musings. She looked at her brother, quirking her brow in the way she always did when she was puzzling over something. Right now, she was puzzling over his expression.

“What?” She asked him simply,

“You’re willing to put our family name on the line, with a pirate who tried to poison you. You just did something no one in our family has  _ ever _ done.” He spoke seriously, his good palm flat upon the table.

“We have just as much right to name a ward and grant him the rights to look after our estates as any other Ishgardian noble family.”

“I know that.” He said to her, frowning. “I’m more worried about  _ why _ you did it.”

“What are you talking about?” She replied, hearing the defensive pitch in her tone of voice. “I did it so that we could get the information we needed for him and protect him if we ever need to use him as an informant again. I  _ solved _ a whole lot of problems for us. Why do you look so glum about it?”

“Because that’s not why you did it, Nasrinne.” He leaned back in his chair, looking over his shoulder toward Pascalle.

“What are you going on about, Jhuls.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.” He replied as he turned around to face her, “The way you’ve  _ always _ looked at him.”

“You haven’t seen anything. You’re imagining it.” Nasrinne shook her head, doing her best to play it cool beneath the intense gaze of her brother’s bright, green eyes.

“No. I’m not.” Jhulayne looked back toward his friend and then his sister, his face softening with his sigh. “It doesn’t matter. There are worse people for my sister to be in love with than my best friend.”

“I’m not in love-”

“If I could have picked anyone for you to fall in love with, I would have picked Paz.” He said this to her firmly. He didn’t want to have a debate with her about her feelings toward Pascalle. That was moot. He knew what they were whether she admitted them to herself or not. She was his  _ sister _ . That’s what this was about. “Listen to me, Nasrinne.  _ Be careful _ .” His brow furrowed. “When I asked you to help me with this, I didn’t know what it was. And when I asked Pascalle to help you help me… well, how could I ever have known… what we know.”

“I’m always careful, Jhulayne.” She said, her eyes watching nervously over his shoulder. She didn’t want Pascalle to walk up and hear  _ this _ .

“Well I’ve never seen you do something so reckless as what you just did in there after Arnor almost spilled the beans about Artreux in front of Cessely. You were protecting him. You were worried about him and Arnor got you worked up. You might be cleverer than him. But are you cleverer than this  _ Brotherhood _ ? Cleverer than Artreux?  _ Nas _ .” He folded his arms across his chest, giving her a very pointed stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Cessely?” Nasrinne demanded, suddenly reminded of this fact, and eager to change the subject.

“Don’t change the subject.” Jhulayne hadn’t spoken to her in that stern and authoritative tone since they were children. Nasrinne shut up, avoiding the urge to pout. “If that’s what happened to Mirielle then it is  _ obvious _ what that man is capable of.” He gave her a pained expression, “And he  _ knows _ , Nasrinne. He knows you’ve been palling around with his son and leading the law closer and closer to that skeleton in the family closet. There’s no way he won’t come for you. For both of you… are you sure you don’t want to just hand this all off to someone else. I can explain it all to Cessely…”

“I’m sure you can.” Nasrinne said coolly, her eyes narrowing at him slightly. “I’m not afraid of this, Jhulayne. And if what you keep  _ claiming _ is right… do you really think I could  _ abandon _ him now. Knowing what I know? Can you?”

Jhulayne sighed again, closing his eyes.

“No. I couldn’t. I won’t. I’ll be in this with Paz till the end. He deserves that… I just sort of hoped that my little sister might be more of a coward. Might put her own safety ahead of that big, dumb heart of hers.” He gave a rueful little laugh, “But, it wouldn’t even have to be Pascalle. Would it.” He said as he opened his eyes, looking at her once more.

“Someone has to stand up to things that aren’t right, Jhuls.” She replied quietly, “You taught me that. I’m sorry if you don’t like it now, you shouldn’t have been such a good teacher.”

“I didn’t teach you. You’ve always just been a good girl, Nas. I’m proud of you.” He shook his head gently, “I’m proud of you. And I know you can handle yourself in a tight spot.” He leaned forward again to whisper to her conspiratorially, And I’m definitely  _ not _ telling you to maybe elope with Paz and let us handle his crooked old man.”

“Shut up, Jhuls.” She hissed at him as the tips of her ears burned.

He laughed, the merry twinkle coming back into his eyes.

“Just promise to be careful, little bird.”

\----


	8. Chapter 8

**_East Shroud; Twelveswood_ **

One of Captain Cessely’s men had given Pascalle a light-hearted warning before they had left that if they were going to be trekking about in the Shroud he better have good quality boots. Now, two hours into sloshing through soft ground and shin high waters he was wishing he had taken his advice and purchased a more appropriate pair. He eyes scoured the embankments and brush about, trying to find any evidence anything had been disturbed. “I’m not even sure what we’re looking for out here. There’s hardly any tracks.”

He was finding it hard to see the beauty of this area of Gridania as he swatted at a large insect, quite like a hornet as it buzzed past his scowling face.

“I’m glad the Adders were able to provide a lead on this Ebrynne character, but why couldn’t she be hiding out somewhere with sun and a salty breeze.” He sighed, the dirty water sloshing into his boots. The light grassy paths had quickly descended into a muddy swamp, as they approached the location Ebrynne was last seen. “You can be sure about someone who  _ chooses  _ to dwell out in this muck.”

Nasrinne gave hima smirk over her shoulder. Pushing aside a low hanging branch out of her way so they could pass. Unlike Pascalle, her steps were light. She’d hardly sloshed through anything. She was long used to how grasslands could turn to marsh with the right amount of rains. Though, Riversmeet had never been quite  _ this _ bad. She admitted silently as the large bug he’d been swatting at flew overhead.

“I’m not sure she lives out here. Who knows where she lives.” Nasrinne tugged one of the thin, flat leaves from the branch. Handing it to him before she let the branch loose behind them. The blade she gave him was a dark, glossy green with a distinct raised vein running straight up the middle.

“That’s a yew leaf. See how it’s sort of shaped like a lance? Long, but a bit wider in the middle?” She turned to scan the area ahead of them, her ears listening closely for an odd note amongst the chorus of the forest. A startled bird, or a cracking log.

He stepped through the mud toward her, boots sloshing. He took the yew leaf from her gingerly. Turning the lance shaped leaf over in his fingers as she explained.

“Funny to think this little thing could be so deadly when wielded correctly. It’s very much like a lance in that respect.” He crunched the leaf up in his hand before letting it fall into the water at his feet. Eyes scanning ahead for indication of their quarry as they moved forward.

“I bet she just makes her goods out here somewhere. Comes for a few days, harvests, prepares. Then off she goes.” Nasrinne replied, “If you want to brew poison, you can’t exactly do it in your kitchen… well. You can, but you’d be quite stupid to do it if you didn’t have a good front for what you were doing.” Ebrynne didn’t own an apothecary. She didn’t work for the botanists guild. She was mobile.

“It would make sense she would have a workspace out here. Somewhere well-hidden with components readily available.”

“She was sighted passing through Hawthorne Hut and heading in this direction three days ago. There is a  _ chance _ we’ve just missed her.  _ But _ … she’s got to be out here for something. If we can find whatever  _ that _ is, we’ll at least be a step closer to piecing together her movements and how she does things...” She paused, pulling the small compass from her belt and looking at it once more. “Well we’ve come from the Hut which is in the south eastern area. Road that leads to Greentear is back that way.” She waved a hand off to her left, “Sweetbloom Pier is further along to the North West.” She nodded ahead of her, “Through Fullflower Comb…

It was fortunate that Nasrinne’s sense of direction was so well honed. Generally, Pas would always rely on a landmark or one of the other Knights we’re he to be travelling off the marked path. Of course, he could read a compass, but he always seemed to end up travelling in a circle. He followed gestures marking the direction they had come and Fullflower Comb.

“But the yew won’t grow that far out. Which means that whatever we’re looking for is mostly to the West. That’s where you get to the no-man’s land between here and the central part of the shroud.”

He craned his head looking for _west._   
“It mostly looks the same to me.

“That’s where you’d be able to keep prying eyes from seeing what you were doing.” She glanced up, overhead at the thickening clouds. The white puffs that had seemed so pleasant when they set out from Hawthorne Hut that morning had started to grow ashen against the sky. “Also, and I sort of hate to tell you this, considering your current feelings about the terrain… but. It looks like it’s going to rain tonight.”

“I have complete trust you can be relied upon to navigate us through the Shroud. I’d surely have us wandering for a fortnight.” Pascalle smiled warmly. He was feeling particularly useless the past few days, more of a hindrance than anything and he certainly did not want to extend their stay in this swamp. But the smile quickly soured when rain was mentioned. All the more reason to find Ebrynne’s camp quickly.

“No time to dilly-dally then. We should press on and keep an eye out for a suitable area to camp.”

It had been a few hours. By now the darkened grey clouds loomed over the treetops, tumbling across the sky as they travelled west along with them. The trees and leaves seemed to perk up; The grass became glossy, softly waving in the breeze as the rain got closer. Pascalle was beginning to feel frustrated; they had been searching all day and there was no sign of anything. He snapped off a twig from an overhanging branch as he walked by, throwing it toward the trees ahead out of a feeling of defeat. “This feels like such a longshot.” He sighed. “Trees. Rocks. More trees. We don’t even know what we’re looking for.” 

Pascalle’s toss was strong. Unsurprisingly. The small branch it had snapped arced over the low hanging boughs which obscured the view ahead. It thrummed, chopping the air as it went spinning, whirling, through the canopy. And then;  _ dun, tink, shhsh, tink _ .

Nasrinne quirked a brow at Pascalle.   
“That didn’t sound like a stick hitting a tree,  _ or _ a rock.” She said to him with a mild grin.

Tink? Wood shouldn’t go _ tink _ . He looked at her meeting her grin with a cocked head.   
“I thought I was going mad. What in the seven hells was that?” He raised his hand over his eyes and peered into the woods and thicket where he had tossed the stick.

Then she was charging ahead, dashing off in the direction of the sound.

“ _ Hey, _ wait a second. I’m not light-footed like you!” He called after her with a grumble.

Eventually the copse of trees gave way, revealing a small clearing, a ramshackle hut in the middle of it. Cobbled together from an array of wood planks, and some sheets of tin and plates of iron. It was not a pretty looking thing. There, lying upon the rusting roof, was the stick Pascalle had tossed. Nasrinne stopped just before the treeline gave out, leaning against one of the yew. Her grin grew wider as she glanced at him.

“Well, I suppose it was a bit of a longshot.” She whispered wryly, “But it looks like you’ve got good aim Pas. Maybe you missed your calling as an archer.”

He looked up and raised his hands to the sky in silent cheer. “With a shot like that, I’d give you a run for your money.” He quipped back, flashing her a wink.

She laughed at his theatrics, a soft hum that blurred into her reply,

“Maybe we’ll swap sometime.” She jibed beneath her breath as he grinned back at her with that sly wink.

Her hand made a gesture, as if to say;  _ Shall we? _ Then she reached behind her, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow. Holding it loosely against the string. This time she waited for him to take the lead. After all, a bow wasn’t much good to them in close quarters if the cabin was occupied. Though surely the sound of the branch clattering down the roof would have alerted anyone inside to their presence. 

He leaned up against a tree, shielding his body from sight as he watched for any indication someone might be there. “Sure, it looks empty enough.”

There were no windows to the hut but as he approached Pas noticed a few loose boards, he knelt down to peek through the side of the wall. Hands cupped over the side of his face. After a few moments he turned back, shaking his head at Nas where she stood still in the tree line, bow at the ready. There was nothing to be seen from outside it was much too dark. He stood to his feet and strode forward toward the door unsheathing his sword and holding it by his side at the ready.

She could write a hundred songs about him, she caught the thought just before it made her sigh. Holding her breath watching him move, peering in through the gaps in the shack’s walls. Lithe as a tiger. Not that Nasrinne had ever  _ seen _ a tiger. But she’d read about them. That’s how Pascalle moved.

_ Bam. _

His shoulder smacked against the door. A powerful, well placed strike. It swung inward, slamming against the wall. He’d knocked it wide open. She finally let out the timorous sound that had been trapped in her throat for fear of… well fear of just embarrassing herself in front of a handsome man. Which was stupid, considering the circumstances.

Her dark eyes scanned behind her over her shoulder, ears peeled for any sound that felt  _ discordant _ to her after the echo of Pascalle’s swift method of access faded.

_ Nothing _ .

She moved with swift strides, bow still held at the ready, low by her left thigh.

Pascalle stepped inside the dim light from outside filtering in behind him, doing little to help as his eyes slowly adjusted. The rotting floorboards creaked underfoot and the smell of mildew and something acrid filled the air. The inside seemed to be only the one room, a small bookshelf in the corner filled with water damaged books. Botany books. Along the far edge of the room, where Pas was headed was a long table that stretched the length of the room filled with alembic, vials (some still half full), scales and other alchemical tools.

He quickly surveyed the room again. “It doesn’t look like anyone is here.” He noticed something scattered on the table. He picked one up, twisting it in his fingers as he did before. “Yew leaves.” He turned and handed it to Nasrinne. 

The single room the shack housed was not used often, but it was used. She let the string fall slack, reaching up to take the leaf from him. It certainly was a yew leaf. She dropped it back on the table where he had found it.

“Some of these vials are still full of something.” Nasrinne mused,

“She might be out gathering supplies, or she might be waiting for this to finish transmuting or…” She glanced up at him, “I know a lot about plants, eating them and using them for medicine… but when it comes to crafting poisons… I’m no expert. I’ve no idea how this Black Yew compound is made… but I hazard one of these vials would hold the clue… the only problem is, if we take one. She’ll know for sure someone’s been here.”

He sheathed his sword again as Nasrinne was inspecting the vials.

“You would be correct in assuming the right tools for the job are here already.” He pointed to the Alembic on the far side of the table. “From what I’ve managed to learn from reading so far, that would be a distilling apparatus.”

She nodded, giving a little hum of agreement as she walked around, inspecting the beakers. Peering at the titles of the books;  _ Eorzean Flora and Toxicology _ ,  _ The Botanist’s Almanac 3rd Edition: Plants of the Twelveswood... _ Careful not to touch anything else. Biting her lip as she pondered, glancing toward the door.

“Luckily that didn’t fall of its hinges… with the thunderstorm blowing in it gives us a bit of leeway if it’s loose…” She gave a “There’s no way she sleeps here, and if she was out getting supplies… she’d either take them to wherever she’s staying to avoid the storm… Hawthorne Hut maybe, or somewhere near the Honey Yard… Or she’d be back here shoring this place up to sleep in it.” She gestured to the patchwork roof above them with it’s wide gaps for ventilation.

“Let’s give the surrounds a good search, find ourselves some landmarks, and come back in the morning after the rain has passed. If she’s going to be back soon, she’ll be back then. We can camp tonight somewhere nearby as you suggested earlier… If we're lucky, we’ll catch her. If not, it’s only about a half a sun’s walk back to some civilization, we can put word in with the Woodwailers to get some men out here… have it properly watched.”

He brought a finger to his lips, thinking a moment. This seemed like the wisest course of action. Also, the one which involved them avoiding getting drenched by the oncoming downpour or spending all night in a mildewy hut. 

“Finding camp might be a hassle but it’s the best option to catch them by surprise. Let’s make a final sweep...” Between spending the night in this ramshackle hut waiting to have his throat slit and getting a little wet in a thunderstorm, there was little thought to his decision. 

Pascalle leant one hand on the table and leaned over to look underneath there was a small crate. he reached forward pulling the box back toward him. There was not much weight to it. He slowly lifted the lid; a foul odour assaulted his nostrils. He retched at the terrible stench, turning his head away in disgust.

“Seven hells…” As he looked back, his face still wincing the source of the odour was revealed. A yellow petaled flower which faded into black the closer it came to the centre. He had seen this before in a book. The crate was full of them.

“Hensbane. This must be Ebrynnes place.” “It seems they’re making more than just poisons here. That flower there can used for medical and… recreational purposes.”

“Well, it certainly makes sense.” She said to him, pulling a face at the sickly scent of the flower wafting out of the crate. “Arnor knew her, and we know that drugs are his trade.”

He reached for one before deciding better and closing the crate, pushing it back into its spot under the table. Rising to his feet.

“We’d be start looking some landmarks and shelter…”

They set out from the hut to find somewhere to make camp, fairly certain it looked as undisturbed as when they had arrived. Nasrinne studied the trees as they made toward the hillside.

“Look here, Pas.” She said pausing by one of the yews. There were some markings scratched into the bark. Nasrinne realised it wasn’t the first time she’d seen them. “This must be a tree she’s harvested. She’s marking them so she can keep the supply of the berries and leaves steady.” She gave a hum. “We’ll keep an eye out for these.” She said, tapping the markings on the trunk. “As long as we see these, we’ll know we’re still close enough to her lab.”

The large thicket of trees that surrounded the hut was located not far from a mountainous rockface. The rain started to drizzle down, but luckily It wasn’t long before Pas came across a small waterfall and behind it, a small cave. It didn’t extend too far but it would be enough to keep them dry for the night from the storm brewing overhead. “I apologize, it’s not the Roost.” He half-smiled to Nas as he started to set his things down. 

She thought the cave that Pascalle found was quite cosy, really. It wasn’t too damp inside, although the little tumble of water that cascaded over part of its opening would only grow larger with the approaching rain. It wasn’t too far from Ebrynne’s makeshift laboratory. By Nasrinne’s guess, under a malm away. It wouldn’t be trouble to find it again either, thanks to the markings Ebrynne had left on the tree trunks around the place.

“We can set up a fire here.” She tapped a soft patch of ground near the entrance. “It’ll be far enough away from the water, but not so far in we’ll choke to death on smoke. We’re bound to find some half decent wood for a fire around here if we look a bit.” She gave him something of a teasing smile before adding; “Plus, I’m sure you want to dry your boots off before morning.” 

They spent the last of the afternoon gathering some decent wood which wasn’t damp all the way through. Nasrinne also spotted some gilbuns (which she pointed out to Pascalle, and then regretted for he praised her knowledge of wild plants and now she was second guessing herself and wondering if perhaps they weren’t gilbuns at all.) She did find a few faerie apples that were on the smaller side, but she knew would taste alright if she poached them and peeled the skin away and then roasted them on the fire.

Pascalle had dug a small pit for the fire, and now they were both busy stripping away the damp bark with their knives to reveal the dryer wood beneath, breaking up the smaller branches for kindling.

“Jhuls was the one who taught me how to do this.” She said nodding toward the little pile of stripped logs she had made. “We used to go camping a lot, with the chocobos. A battle chocobo has to learn how to stay at a campsite, get used to the flames in the night and such…”

“You two were close growing up… I was never that close with my older sister.”

“Your older sister… She passed when you were both still quite young really. Sort of like my siblings and Karlyne.”

Pascalle nodded,

“She married very young. Even younger than your niece. I think she was only fifteen or sixteen… She died before I’d even entered the Temple Knights.”

“How did… she pass?” Nasrinne asked the question tentatively as she started arranging the wood in a carefully constructed little pyramid.

“Childbirth, I think. But the child never lived either. Or something like that. I sometimes feel guilty, that I don’t mourn her more. She was kind to me… but I hardly knew her.”

She nodded in understanding.

“I can’t mourn Karlyne. I never knew him… he’s just…” She gave a sigh, “Someone else’s memories. But I’m cursed with his face, so to everyone I know… there is a part of  _ him _ in me. Even though I never knew him, or what he was like...”

“I was away when it happened. Still a squire under the banner of Hallienarte. I didn’t even go to the funeral. They didn’t hold it in the city. I can’t remember where Vestonne; that’s my brother in law, lived at the time. It wasn’t in Coerthas.” He shrugged, “Perhaps it makes me a bad brother. I try to make it up to Anais…”

“You’re not a bad brother for not knowing how to mourn someone you hardly know. You feel bad about it, that’s sign enough you’re a good person. Someone who  _ truly _ didn’t care for her, wouldn’t even think of her.” Nasrinne dusted her hands off on the front of her leathers, picking up the little flint and tinder and striking it to the wood. It sputtered a moment as the kindling began to light. She looked up at him her lips rising slowly as she added, “At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

_ How does she always know what to say? _ Pascalle found himself wondering as he listened to her throaty chuckle, unable to keep from joining it.

“So, this all happened when you were young. Back when you first met Jhuls, before you slew the dragon that landed you a spot among Ishgard’s most gloried Temple Knights.” She started to set up the hoist, and he moved to help her. Kneeling opposite and keeping his eyes downturned toward the earth he was driving the end of the stick into.

“It was a very small dragon, Nasrinne.” He replied softly, feeling both proud and embarrassed all at the same time.

“A small dragon is still quite big.” She laughed, standing to start arranging things so they could hang their pot and a kettle up.

“I couldn’t have done it if not for your brother, you know. He told me. I’ll never forget it.  _ Get on my shoulders, Paz. _ ” He covered his face with his hands as he shook his head, half-laughing, half-frowning at the memory. Still surreally visceral after all these years.

“He told me at least a dozen times. About how he bore the weight of a fully armoured knight and helped launch him at a dragon’s open maw.”

“It was the throat we were aiming for, shield to the throat, sword to the eye. That was the theory… and it bloody worked.” He sat down again on his tightly coiled bedroll. “Tell you what, you and your brother both have a talent for problem solving on the fly.”

Nasrinne laughed at him as she drew some water from the tiny little stream that rolled away from the waterfall just outside the cave mouth.

“Why did it take Jhuls so long to come home… after everything happened?” Pascalle asked curiously as he watched Nasrinne start unpacking their small stash of rations. There was a nice hunk of smoked bacon, and some simple rye flatbread. A little twist of salt and pepper which he watched her dump immediately into the pot of water she had set to boiling. 

“Well, what he tells everyone is that his letters weren’t getting through, and he was close to penniless and couldn’t afford the airship or take the aetheryte.” Nasrinne gave a little sigh, “Which sounds reasonable enough… but that’s not what he told me.” She smiled, “At first, he couldn’t really remember who he was. Then, he saw a Fortemps shield bearer, out with some Woodwailers on an Ixali hunt in the mountains… and he remembered. But he was afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

“That we all died.” Nasrinne shrugged, “And he was happy. There was a Duskwight girl he fancied, and people respected him, he got along well. I mean, that’s just Jhuls. He was afraid to ruin that little bit of peace at first. Afraid to revisit what happened that night, like most people are. I suppose.” She sighed again, “But he said, when he heard tell of a group of adventurers headed out to Dragonhead and beyond, he knew he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t send word to Ser Haurchefant and ask after us.”

“Then you came here and got him.”

“Then I came here and got him.” She agreed, chuckling.

“What happened to the Duskwight girl he fancied?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head softly, “Never even told me her name, actually. Just that she was kind, and that her eyes reminded him of the moon in Summer. Probably shouldn’t tell you my brother’s secrets… I usually wouldn’t tell people but…” She looked over at him, “He wouldn’t mind me telling his secrets to you.  _ I don’t have any secrets from Paz _ . He’d say.” She chuckled again, beckoning him closer to the fire with a subtle cant of her head. “Come here, I’ll teach you how to make bacon broth.”

They were substituting the leek for the mushrooms she had gathered she explained as she showed him how to prepare the bacon and crush up the garlic so it would all melt away.

“I thought you were  _ allergic _ to soup.” He teased,

“I do  _ hate _ soup.” She told him sincerely, looking at the pot quite disappointed. “But it’s just about the only easy thing to cook when you’re camping and we didn’t pack a pan or a proper hoist…” She gave a slightly dramatic sigh, then looked at him with one of her coy halfsmiles before breaking into laughter. “Don’t tell Ygrinne?”

“On my honour.” He chuckled, putting a hand over his heart for emphasis. Watching her as she turned her face back to the campfire. Her little smiles were only coy, he realised, because she didn’t know how beautiful she was.

Once the soup was bubbling, she tossed the apples into their kettle along with the tea. Fishing them out before too long. Just long enough for the skins to blanche, she said. The tea was ready by the time she had the roasting slowly on stakes.

Pascalle poured each of them a cup.

“You can still sort of taste the apples in the tea…” He said after he’d had a sip. Quietly marvelling at the little feast she had assembled for them out of what his father would have called table scraps.

“It helps to make it a bit sweet, seeing as we don’t have any lemon or any milk…” She gave him one of her crooked smiles over the rim of her mug.

Outside the mouth of the cave, the first spatters of rain had started to fall. He looked out toward them, finding himself smiling faintly, despite the weather.

“Let’s go back to Gridania past Sweetbloom Pier… We can ask the locals if they’ve seen Ebrynne about their ever…” He said, “And then I’ll catch you a fish to cook for dinner tomorrow night.”

Nasrinne laughed, taking a gulp of her tea.

“Can you fish, Pas!?” She asked as she put her cup down. Sounding pleasantly surprised by the fact. He loved the soft way she always said his name. No one else ever said it so softly.

“My Grandfather used to take me sometimes…” He replied softly, watching the rain grow heavier. “My Mother’s Father. He served under Hallienarte’s banner too…”

“You’ve lost a lot of people…” She said quietly, leaning forward to turn her apples. “I’m sorry, Pascalle…”

“No, don’t be.” He held a hand up, as he often did when she was apologising. “You don’t need to apologise. My Grandfather was a good man, he lived a long, good life… he… he was never bitter about anything.” His brow creased with his frown. His blue eyes still so bright, even in the dimness of the cavern. “I always hoped to be like him.”

“I think you might be.” She said, easing herself back onto her makeshift seat next to his.

His laughter was wistful, but still. The words warmed him more than the campfire.

“When I was eleven, or perhaps twelve… I snuck away from one of my training bouts with Adrax. I had made up a very good lie, although I don’t remember what it was anymore…” He stopped watching the rain then, turning instead to look at the flames. But not at her. “I had snuck away to paint, and my Father caught me out because I had some paint on the inside of my thumb still. I’d missed it. But it was bright green. So, my Father didn’t.”

Nasrinne was holding her breath as he spoke. She didn’t want to disturb him, and she had the feeling that Pascalle was saying all of this for himself, as much as he was saying it to her.

“He tore up everything. Smashed the easel. Fist through the canvases. We had to get new rugs for my room… He gave me a thick lip where his ring split it when he backhanded me. My Grandfather took me away on a fishing trip after it happened. I think not only to get me away from my Father, but… to try and help me understand him. Why he was. Why he  _ is _ the way he is…” He heaved a sigh, “My Father’s father… I never knew that man. My Father was adopted after his Mother died… his Father, the man who would be my Grandfather by blood, was a drunken carpenter. Lived in the Brume. I don’t know why I’m giving you this tour through my family history…” 

“Sometimes, it’s just good to talk about things, Pascalle.” She said, as gently as possible.

He nodded; he knew this was her way of telling him she would listen. To whatever it was he was rambling.

“So, you see the way my Father grew up… the life he lived. The things he saw when he was eleven or twelve. Well I couldn’t imagine it. That’s what my Grandfather was trying to teach me… to forgive him. I suppose. Forgive my Father his brutishness because it was just a condition of…” He shook his head again. “Sometimes, I wonder if I ever even forgave him then. Or if I’ve always hated what he was…”

“Forgiveness is a funny thing…” She said to him. “In some ways, it has to be earned. You can’t just go around forgiving everything. Maybe you did forgive him back then, maybe you never did.” Nasrinne shrugged, “Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because he never did anything to  _ earn _ your forgiveness.”

She had one of those sombre expressions on her face when he finally looked at her. That burning earnestness in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, and as he tried to think of the right words. To tell her how important it had been for him to hear somebody say that to him…

“Here, the apples are ready.” She pulled the baked fruit from the flames. Resting them in one of the wooden bowls. “They’ve just got to cool a bit. The soup will be done by then.” She peered into the pot to check it, giving it a stir. “Do you want another cup of tea with supper?”

“That would be lovely.” He replied, “I’ll make it. You’re already doing enough…”

The bacon broth was rich and smoky, and the apples afterwards were sweet. It was a feast, he decided as they talked about mundane things. He knew she was purposely keeping the conversation light so that he didn’t have to pay attention. Giving him space to brood, he supposed. But Pascalle didn’t want to brood.

By the time they finished eating, the woods were dark, and the storm was fully upon them. The drops of rain began to fall; thick and fast. A peal of thunder cracked overhead, spindly fingers for bright white light fracturing the sky, lighting up the evening with a flash of day.

He added another log to the fire, and they set out their boots to dry.

“The storm will blow over by the morning.” Nasrinne told him as she began to untie her bedroll. The cave was narrow, and to avoid the stray drops of rain and water that the wind would blow in they had no choice but to lay them out side by side.

“Do you want some more of that apple-y tea you made?” Pascalle asked her as he finished setting up his bed.

“Oh. Thank you, yes.” Nasrinne replied, glancing at the hairline gap between the thick canvas mats. Internally debating if she should say something about it. Was it worse that she noticed it? Or would it be worse if she didn’t notice it? She’d never really had to sleep next to a man as handsome as Pascalle before. What would Ygrinne say? She bit her lip.

If she  _ said _ something, he’d probably just move his mat closer to the waterfall on the other side and spend all night being dripped on. He wouldn’t get a lick of sleep. Which would of course be terrible for their mission. This really was the driest spot. It wasn’t as if she had  _ conspired _ to leave a pin-width between their beds.

“Here you go…” Pascalle was looking down at her, holding out her mug. Nasrinne smiled as she took it, curling her hand around it and bringing it slowly to her lips.

“We probably should try to get some sleep soon…” she murmured, just as another deafening rumble clapped somewhere above them.

“Might be a bit hard with that.” Pascalle replied wryly, glancing out at the blanketing rain taking a swig of tea as he sat down next to her.

Nasrinne watched him out of the corner of her eye, feeling inexplicably and unconscionably nervous. Trying to think of something to say. But she couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry if… if I’ve put too much of my own burdens upon you recently.” He said without looking at her, “I just want to apologise, and to thank you. For listening to it.”

Nasrinne drew a sharp little breath. A customary habit she would never break, that in time she suspected Pascalle would come to realise meant she had a great deal of things she’d like to say to him. Only she wasn’t quite sure how. Things like the fact she already  _ knew _ he could tell her  _ anything _ , and it wouldn’t change the way she felt about him. Even if she wouldn’t put the way she felt about him into words.

“It’s not a burden, Pascalle.” She said finally. “You shouldn’t worry about talking to me about how you feel, that’s what feelings are for, after all. For talking about.” She gave a soft chuckle, her eyes travelling along his handsome profile as he watched the rain. “And there’s no need to thank me, I should be glad to listen to you anytime you like.” She bit her lip.

He shook his head, turning to look at her with something of a half-smile of his own.

“People don’t always do things because they need to.”

She gave a little sigh of consent, acquiescing his point.

“Well, you’re welcome, then. I suppose…” She glanced down into her cup, trying to pretend she couldn’t notice the simpering smile on her own face.

“But, for now, I think I’ll take your earlier advice and try and get some sleep.” He told her, looking up at her from his pillow.

_ Fury help me. The pillows are touching _ . Nasrinne thought.

“Yes. Me too. Of course. Can’t sleep sitting up.” Her laughter pitched slightly, “I’m just going to finish this tea.” She added hastily, looking back down into the cup. No longer simpering, just… stupid.

He laughed, finishing his own tea in one gulp, settling himself down onto his bedroll.

“Good night, Nasrinne.”

“Yes. Good night. Rest well…” She replied quietly.

It didn’t take long for the sound of the rain to lull him to sleep. She could hear the change in his breath as it fell into its steady rhythm. She stayed sitting cross legged for a time after he had closed his eyes. Listening to it as she watched the fire. Thinking to herself about a great many things. About how lucky she was, really. Reunited with her brother. Loving parents. A slightly meddlesome, but well-meaning sister. The Fury had kept Nasrinne’s family safe from tragedy. She wondered why she’d seen fit to rain so much of it down on Pascalle. She gave another little sigh, finally setting her own cup down, the tea only half finished. She looked hesitantly toward her pillow, and his peacefully sleeping face, just ilms away from it.

_ Don’t worry so much. Nasrinne _ . She scolded herself as she finally sunk down onto her bedroll. (Careful to face away from Pascalle.)  _ What are you even worried about? Should be worried about Ebrynne finding this cave and poisoning the tea before we wake up. Not worried about sleeping next to a bloody man you fancy. _ Somehow, the thought that there was something  _ else _ to worry about, comforted her. She closed her eyes, content in fretting about how well they’d concealed their footprints through the mud as they’d wandered around looking for logs, and if the rain would do a good enough job of hiding the smoke from the fire. She had almost fallen asleep while pondering the answers to these questions, when quite suddenly she felt a weight across her. Something warm, and strong resting across the span of her ribs.

She froze in terror, realising what it was.

It was Pascalle’s arm.

_ Halone, help me _ . She prayed, although she wasn’t sure what Halone was going to do to help her. The man was asleep and could hardly be blamed that his limbs weren’t exactly designed for tiny caves in a hillside.  _ He’ll move in a moment _ . She assured herself, holding her breath while she waited, motionless, for his arm to shift again.

She wouldn’t have been able to tell you how long she had held her breath for. The longer his arm lay there, the nicer she found it felt. And before it ever moved, she had fallen sound asleep.

And in sleep, as the fire burned lower, slumbering limbs drew closer, wrapped tighter. Nestling into the beacon of heat resting beside them. Tiny fingers wove themselves through larger hands. And neither’s movements disturbed the other’s; for nothing felt more natural to them in their hazy subconscious minds, clouded by dreams, than to lay like this. Wrapped safe in one another.

\----


	9. Chapter 9

It was the sound of the birds that woke him. So many of them. He hadn’t heard so many birds in years. He wondered where he was for a moment, he could hear the trickle of the waterfall and the drip of the last of the rain droplets as the trees shed them from their leaves.  _ The Shroud _ . He remembered as he took a deep breath of the morning air. The scent of lilac and honeysuckle greeted him. Not just the scent of lilac and honeysuckle… Nasrinne’s perfume.

His eyes shot open, a rush of heat immediately flushing his cheeks as he beheld the head of raven hair nestled close against his shoulder.

Pascalle held his breath. She was asleep. Her fingers had threaded themselves through his during the night. Truth be told, actually, it felt  _ quite _ nice. The way she clutched his hand so tenderly… but it was  _ utterly inappropriate Pascalle _ . He reprimanded himself sternly. He’d have to unwind himself from this situation carefully, so as not to wake her…

He felt her let go the moment he moved his arm. The flush of rouge returning to his cheeks.

“I’m-sorry-Lady-Nasrinne-I-” His rapid fire apology leaving his lips, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he rolled onto his back away from her. 

“Goodness-it-was-terribly-cold-last-night-” Nasrinne’s rapid fire excuse crashed against his own words as she sat bolt upright. Mortified. Staring at the ground in front of her pleadingly. As if perhaps a sinkhole could appear, and she could just topple herself into it.

“I must apologise.” Pascalle sat up too, looking out at the milky light of the dawn. The peachy tint of the sun’s rise no doubt a match for his face. “Being asleep is no excuse for my untoward actions.”

Nasrinne nodded, unsure of what to say. Should she apologise. She had been holding  _ his _ hand after all. Poor man probably had been trying to tug it back for hours. She prayed harder for Halone to let the earth swallow her up.

“It’s alright,” She said finally. When she realised there would be no divine salvation coming.  _ When does it ever come?  _ She lamented. If she couldn’t rely on Halone to save her from her own existence, then who else was there?

“It’s not… at all… If Jhulayne-”

“Well let’s just never,  _ ever _ tell Jhulayne.” Nasrinne suggested, cutting him off as she stood. “I’m just going to go and see if I can’t rustle us up something for breakfast.” She said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible, and not like someone who was dying of embarrassment and wishing to be anywhere else than where she was currently.

“Of course.” Pascalle nodded, still unable to look her in the eye. “I’ll get the fire started again...”

“Excellent. Thank you. Yes. Back soon.” Nasrinne said, quite awkwardly as she picked up her bow. “Back soon.” She said again, wincing afterward.  _ Shut up. Nasrinne. Shut up. _ She pleaded with herself silently.

“See you soon.” He murmured in agreement.

Then she left.

Pascalle's eyes laid upon Nasrinne as she left the cave until she disappeared behind the plume of water vapor. The rush of the footfalls like white noise. His legs refused to move, too shocked, too embarrassed at his reaction upon waking entangled with her. It was nice though Pas thought as his cheeks reddened once more. After spending what felt like an eternity still, staring down at the floor he snapped out of his stupor.

“What are you doing.” He chastised himself quietly as he walked toward the extra kindling they had prepared the day before. “Get this fire started and try not to embarrass yourself further.” He grabbed some wood for the fire.

A few small pieces of kindling and a log were placed upon the smouldering embers. Pas watched the flames lick the wood gently at first, almost playful. The vapor from the waterfall was doing its best to dampen the fire so he sat down with his back to the waterfall, crossing his legs. The campfire flickered to life and started to engulf the larger logs. He settled in to watch the fire, basking in its warmth until he himself was immersed in the moment. The noise of the waterfall engulfed him, completely capturing his mind. “I should be out there with her.” He said softly, shaking his head in disappointment at himself. “Why should it have even been embarrassing? You like her.”

The cave was silent save for the crackle of the fire and the rush of the water at Pascalle’s back. Lost in his own private musings as he was, it was hardly surprising that he didn’t hear the whisper of feet moving closer toward the mouth of the cave. As the sound of the steps grew louder, his first thought would have probably been that they were the sound of Nasrinne’s feet returning. But these sounded heavier than Nasrinne’s feet.

“Aww. You like her. That’s sweet.” A voice said behind him. There was a certain familiarity to it’s inflection. As if it sounded  _ almost _ like the voice of someone he knew. But not quite.

When Pascalle turned in it’s direction he’d find a fist, swinging directly toward his face.

At the other end of the appendage was an Elezen, shorter than him by a few ilms, with an unruly mop of straw-blonde hair and a wicked scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and down into his right cheek.

It was a face that Pascalle had never seen before, and yet, he would know it. It was the cruel and vicious look lingering in Dione’s dark, brown eyes that would give him away. It was an expression Pascalle had seen countless times. The similarities between Adrax Memort and his nephew ran far more than skin deep. 

As Pascalle sat there making justifications for himself as the smell of wood smoke drifted through the cave like incense. Without realising it he’d come to embarrass himself twice, though the second time would have more dire consequences. When he heard a voice speaking to him there was something that made him nervous. Though the voice was not familiar, the tone he heard bore the same inflections and barbed cruelty that he knew oh too well. He knew he had now become the quarry. Had Pascalle been vigilant. Had he had mind on the task hand rather than his own misgivings then, well maybe he wouldn’t have been caught with his pants down, so to speak. “Dione.” He gasped, his eyes urgently searching for where he placed his sword. He might have even been able to take in more than a glance of his assailant.

But that wasn’t the case. As he turned around, he was greeted by a leather clad fist pummelling him square in the nose. Pascalle was hit with such force he was knocked to his back only narrowly missing the fire on his way down. At once a fountain of red came from his nose and the taste of iron filled his mouth. Blood was flowing through his fingers as they clasped over his face. He looked up but as quickly as he had a boot came crashing into his unprotected side. There is a cracking sound as his ribs break. He rolled to the smaller side of the cave, a scream of agony left his lungs as he clutched his ribs and stood to his feet.

Now standing he realised it hadn’t been Dione that had kicked him but another.  _ Ebrynne _ . He scowled at them both as they took step by step toward him. He was like a rat in a cage with nowhere to run. With blood running down his chest he did all he could, and raised his fists. He charged headlong into Dione with his shoulder low, aimed at the man with all the strength he could muster.

Dione was laughing, right up until the point that Pascalle’s shoulder crashed into his chest, barrelling him backwards slightly. The elezen’s feet slipped this way and that upon the slick floor of the cave entrance, but he did not fall.

“Still got a little fight ‘ave ya.” He grunted as he righted himself, tugging a knife from a

scabbard in his belt and brandishing it, the blade flashing past Pascalle’s eyes in a swipe that fell just an ilm short of his face.

“You can’t cut  _ him _ .” Brynne’s voice said sourly, she twirled a long staff in her hand. That’s how she’d kicked him so powerfully, and she was about to do it again. The round end of the haft slamming with a  _ thwack _ against the canvas of Nasrinne’s bedroll as she launched herself up, spinning around, legs swinging toward Pascalle’s exposed back. 

The blade sliced through the air in front of his eyes just narrowly missing him. There was a moment, a split second that Dione hesitated, knife in hand. Just after Ebrynne spoke. Though the implications of that didn't immediately dawn on Pascalle he used that lapse of Dione’s stance to duck in close and reach for the hand holding the blade. He grasped Dione’s wrist as tightly as he could but he was little prepared from the strike repeating itself from behind him. Ebrynne’s feet smashed into his back, sending his knife wielding assailant backwards and himself on top of him, only once again narrowly missing the blade plunging into his shoulder. As they crashed into the ground with a mighty thud Pascalle’s back was hurting but it wasn't a square kick, it had just glanced his side but sent them both off balance. Pas managed to wrest the knife from Dione’s hand, sending it skittering back toward the waterfall and falling into churning waters. The assassin threw Pascalle off of him, not an easy feat; he was not a light man. Unfortunately for Dione, Pascalle used the momentum to roll onto his feet. Now with their places swapped and space created he could make a rush for his own weapon. He picked his sword and unsheathed it in one swift motion, leaving no time before he lunged toward Ebrynne.

As Pascalle and Dione had struggled, Ebrynne had shifted her stance. His lunge was met with a swift  _ snap _ as the butt of her staff smacked against his temple. Dione’s hands were grasping for Pascalle’s sword arm, pulling the same trick he had pulled on him a moment earlier. Fingers latching onto his wrist, pressing down into the tendons with tremendous force to try and get him to drop the blade.

\----

Nasrinne had wandered aimlessly for a time in silence. The thoughts in her head drowning out the early morning woodland sounds.

The long grass was slick and wet against the sides of her boots as she walked through the swathe of trees, away from the rockface. She could feel her ears burning as she lectured herself. (What was she thinking? She should have said something about the bedrolls. Pascalle probably thought she was some cheap harlot, clinging to his hand like that.) She hadn’t even thought about breakfast as the first rays of sunlight began to pierce through the last lingering moments of twilight.

She took a deep breath, watching as the world began to brighten, the blue of the sky peeking through the canopy above her.

“ _ Focus, Nasrinne _ .” She told herself sternly. It was done now. If luck was on her side, they’d never speak of it again. And no more camping. Next time they could just ride through the bloody rain to somewhere with  _ separate _ rooms.

Her meandering footsteps had led her closer to the clearing, and Brynne’s little shack. No doubt her mind just directed her that way subconsciously because she was so focused on not losing track of the place. They had agreed to check the place for any sign of the woman together… but she was already so close, it wouldn’t hurt to have an early peek. She’d be careful to stay behind the tree line and out of sight; She reasoned with herself. Plus, the gilbuns had been around there the day before, there was a solid chance there would be a few more this morning, after all that rain.

She came upon the rear of the shack, pausing to peer from behind a fallen tree trunk. Watching for any signs of movement, or flash of light, from behind the darkened windows. When she was satisfied that she’d seen nothing to alarm, she began to wind her way around to the front. Moving cautiously from tree to tree, staying within the long morning shadows cast by the rising sun.

She had made it about halfway around the perimeter of the hut this way when she noticed something. Something she hadn’t seen the previous afternoon.

A hand barrow, resting against the trunk of one of the yew trees. She cast her mind back, trying to place it there in her memory of the way the clearing had appeared when they had scoured it together. But she couldn’t. Her eyes glanced toward the shack again, not toward the windows this time. But the ground.

“Oh… no…” She whispered as she drew closer to the tracks upon the ground. Fresh. From after the rain, for they weren’t puddles.

She hadn’t even been looking for tracks when she slinked off from the cave this morning on her walk of shame. She hadn’t even thought to look… but now, as she stared around at the prints in the mud, direction they were moving in after they had ditched their barrow… she realised how truly  _ stupid _ that had been.

“Pascalle.” She gasped his name beneath her breath. 

Her legs were running before her mind had even told them to.

She had always been fast through the forest back home. Swift and silent. She had never had any trouble leaping over logs and landing softly in the dirt when she went hunting with Jhulayne. It’s why he always took her. It’s what made her so deadly with a bow.

But right at this moment, she wasn’t on the ground. She was perched upon one of the low hanging boughs of the yew trees that grew clustered by this puddle of a lake. The string of her bow taught as her eyes watched the scene she had come upon carefully; peering at the silhouettes through the haze of the morning mists rising off the tiny curtain of water tumbling down the rock face, and probably tumbling down further still. Meeting up with the underground reservoirs that fed the lush lands of the Shroud.

It wasn’t that hard for her to work out who was who. (Pas was almost  _ unconscionably _ tall, after all. Even for an Elezen.)

Unarmoured, and by Ebrynne’s reckoning, soon to be unarmed. The knight was in trouble. Another strike from that staff, this time into his exposed sternum, would do the trick of putting him down, Nasrinne thought, watching the woman wind her arm’s back to do exactly what she expected her to do. At least for long enough for her to get the shackles hanging from her belt around his wrists. Once he was winded, (and with his broken ribs,) there wouldn’t be much he could do to stop them. They had caught him thoroughly unawares. Which was exactly as one expected assassins to do, really, she conceded.

“You know what I’m gonna do to that little bitch when I find her?” Dione was taunting in Pascalle’s ear. More than loud enough for her to hear. “Don’cha?”

_ What a brute _ . Her eyes narrowed as she loosed the arrow. Listening as it whistled toward its mark; Dione’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you tell  _ me _ instead?” Her voice carried into the cave the moment the string fell slack. 

She didn’t waste much time after announcing her presence. Leaping down from the branch where she had concealed herself. Her feet had touched the ground the moment he screamed.

Nasrinne never aimed a shot to kill a man. But that didn’t mean she didn’t aim a shot to  _ hurt _ . Her eyes searched for Pascalle. He looked bloodied, she cursed herself silently for not arriving back at the camp sooner.

On the floor, Dione screamed out in pain, the arrow was sticking from his shoulder. It looked deep enough to have struck the bone. He scrabbled backwards along the cavern floor, desperately putting space between himself and Nasrinne. Like a dove scared by the scream of a hawk, his eyes darting around for an escape.

Pascalle could taste the coppery blood still pooling in his mouth. He felt the aching and cracks in his rib as Dione’s nails dug into the flesh of his wrist. Ebrynne hadn’t given him a chance as her staff connected with his head with a thwack. There were spots in the corners of his vision, making his head feel like the only thing inside of it was static. Pas was dizzy on his feet but somehow managed to keep his vice like grip on the hilt of his blade. Suddenly Dione’s grasp on his wrist was let loose, both men stumbling backwards. Pas fell back into the wall righting himself with his free hand placed against the cool rockface. Nasrinne. It was all so fast; he hadn’t even seen where the arrow had come from.

Pascalle’s brain was screaming him to take his time but his feet kept going forwards, quickening the pace to an almost-run toward Ebrynne. Her staff came at him in a downward strike. With a grunt he stalled it with his own blade and swept her legs. Ebrynne was distracted, trying to pry her staff free from the blade wedged into it. And Pascalle’s legs were  _ long _ .

His foot struck her shin, tipping her balance and sending her topping sidewards into the cavern floor. She hit it with a thud, her staff clattering on the floor by his feet. He snatched it up quickly, tossed it behind him, into the shallow pool out of her reach. Glancing. over his shoulder to see how Nasrinne was doing.

Dione’s right arm might have been useless thanks to the arrow skewered through his shoulder. But his left arm, and the hand at the end of it, had been scratching across the dirt and stone as he crawled away from Nasrinne. Fingers reaching, grasping, until they curled around one of the smouldering logs in the campfire.

He gave a low grunt, sending the burning log hurtling toward her.

“Nasrinne!” He called out to her in warning.

Her eyes widened at the hunk of flaming wood arcing toward her, then she dove toward the waterfall. It smacked into her chest, knocking the breath from her momentarily as she doubled over with a gasp. But the splatter of the water kept the coals from taking to her tunic. (At least she wouldn’t be catching fire.)

It looked as though Ebrynne had taken a dizzying knock to the head as she hit the floor. She tried standing to her feet but stumbled.

“Sorry.” Pascalle said as he moved in, raising his foot. “One can never be too careful.” Then he returned the favour from earlier. His leather boot heel slamming into the side of her face as she crumpled into a pile on the floor. Knocked out cold. Pas was quick to turn to Dione now that Ebrynne was dealt with.   
“I’ve got your back” he grimaced trying to work through the pain, even though his lungs were crying out for mercy.

She snatched the spare arrow from the side of her boot, holding it close by the head as she lunged for Dione as he stood. Stabbing toward him as if it were a dagger’s blade. She managed to just knick his cheek with it before his hand grabbed her wrist. Twisting it awkwardly. Nasrinne made a noise that somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew sounded very unlady like. Then she dropped her bow and balled her fist. A left hook, straight to the jaw. There was a cracking sound (her knuckles,) as the two broke apart. She fumbled for the dagger sheathed at her hip, tugging it free as her eyes watched him like a hawk. Dione was trying to free another one of his own blades. He seemed to have a few of them. Still, his injury made him less mobile, and it was easy for her to pick the direction of his attack as he launched himself at her again. They were sloppy, strikes. Easy to side step and skip around, so obviously it had been a good guess that he was right handed.

“Do you really want to try take me in a knife fight with an arrow sticking out of your shoulder, Dione?” Nasrinne taunted him as she circled back around toward her bow again. Her own dagger still held at the ready. 

“Useless…” Dione hissed his eyes skipping from Ebrynne on the floor, then between the both of them. With Pascalle slowly approaching, sword drawn at the ready and Nasrinne reaching for her bow he was wearing thin on options.”I could take you both and blindfolded and armless.” he spat back. 

Without any notice he flung a dagger toward Ebrynne’s unconscious body. Though it was a sloppy throw.

Her fingers paused, inches from her bow’s limb tip as Dione threw the knife. Her breath catching in her throat as she heard the sound as it sunk into some part of the unconscious poisoner on the cave floor. What part though? Nasrinne didn’t have time to wonder. 

Dione grasped the shaft of the arrow still sticking from his shoulder and ripped it out in one swift motion "And this?” throwing it to the floor. “Is that all you got?" he crowed, smirking infuriatingly at her as he slipped another dagger into his hand.

“No.”

Was all Nasrinne said in reply to Dione. Her own blade leaving her hand, spinning toward him; He barely had time to knock it away from his throat with the hilt of the knife he’d been spinning while he gloated.

Then he sneered, kicking up a plume of ash and embers from the campfire, knocking down their cooking rig. The scalding thick sheet of steam that burst up as the upturned kettle poured its water on the flame was more than enough of a diversion for him to put some more distance between them. Nasrinne snatched up her bow, nocking another arrow with frightening speed. Sending it through the fog of vapour and ash toward his retreating form. But Dione dodged it with either a well timed duck... or a lucky trip. The shaft went zipping narrowly over his head to slam into the trunk of a nearby tree She cursed. For half a heart-beat she went to chase him, she could probably catch his knee with the next shot if she got out into the open of the woods after him...

But then she remembered the blood covering the knight’s tunic and she spun around to face him,

“Pascalle.” She said breathlessly, dropping her bow for the second time. (Though much more carelessly this time.) “Are you alright?” She pressed her hand to his chest, looking up at him, “Of course you’re not alright… Here, sit down…”

“Don’t… worry… about me, I’ve had… worse.” he reassured her as best he could while wincing in pain at the hand on his chest (Not that he would say anything to stop her touching him again. It was honestly, a pleasant distraction from the throbbing pain radiating through him.)

She helped him down onto one of the strewn bedrolls, wincing as she finally got a close up look at his face. “Fury help me… I think your nose is broken… and your ribs...” Her head snapped toward the unconscious form of Ebrynne, eye’s narrowing angrily. She’d need to get to her, soon, she knew. Little as the woman deserved her help. But right now, Pascalle’s injuries were her priority. “I never should have gone off like that this morning… it was stupid… I’m sorry.” She muttered, not really looking at him as she spoke, but going through her pack; pulling out the bandages and potions that the Adders had issued her with before they left.

“Dione… He fights dirty… just like Adrax. Don’t be… I should never have… let us split up.”

“Here, drink this one.” She said, handing him a bottle of greenish liquid. 

He took the bottle from her, popping the cork with his thumb and hastily tipping it back. It did bring some instant relief for the pain, but the injuries were still there. She handed him some of the clean bandages, and he held them tenderly to his nose. Sitting and just letting the air fill his lungs again. “Thank you.” He smiled weakly after a few moments before trying to struggle to his feet again, using her shoulder for balance as she took the empty bottle from him.

“We need to help her.”. He strained as he pointed toward her. Speaking through laboured breath “Brynne… make sure she’s… alright.” 

_ Sod her _ . Nasrinne thought as her guilty conscious and unresolved feelings from the earlier part of their morning crashed into the rage she was feeling.

“This is a weak potion. It’ll stop her dying.” Nasrinne replied, shaking the other, still-full, bottle in her hand as she looked at him while he tried to use her as support to get up.

“Sit back down.” She said to him, firmly, but gently. “We’ve got to be careful, your nose  _ and _ your ribs, Pascalle. Don’t they teach you any first aid in the temple knights?” She scolded him lightly, “You can’t exert yourself; it’ll make it difficult to breathe. Just rest a minute or two. You’ve probably got a concussion. I’ll deal with Ebrynne.” There was no room for argument, you could see it clearly on her face.

It didn't take much more convincing than that for Pascalle to relent and sit down once more. “Alright. but only for a moment” He murmured to her as he slumped back into the bedroll, turning his head to the waterfall. “Dione could still be out there.”

After a moment, his eyelids fluttered closed and Nasrinne frowned to herself, before walking toward the unconscious woman. She looked in better shape than Pascalle aside from the large egg on top of her head. She knelt down to check her pulse. It was still there. Not so faint as to make her worry about the time she’d taken either. Which meant she could take some more time. She unhooked the shackles the poisoner had been carrying at her belt, slapping them cleanly over each wrist. Then she searched all of the pockets for the key and pocketed herself.

The blade Dione had thrown was a poor shot. Unsurprising considering it wasn’t his dominant hand. It had lodged itself into her thigh. She unwound her roll of bandages, leaning in to press a finger lightly where the blade met flesh. It seemed to have missed any major arteries. Ignoring the woman’s moans as she applied pressure to it, yanking the knife free. Ebrynne’s eye’s opened with a snap like a pair of elastic bands as she screamed.

The scream was more than enough to keep Pascalle from passing out too, she reasoned, as it rang and reverberated throughout the small cave.

Nasrinne frowned at her.

“You best grit your teeth and shut up, or I’ll gag you while I do this.” She told her matter of factly as she wound the bandage about the wound on her leg. Ebrynne looked from Nasrinne, to the shackles about her wrist, and the bloody knife laying next to her.

“Where’s-”

“Dione?” Nasrinne tied off the knot, turning to look at Ebrynne. “He ran away. Lovely friend you’ve got there.” She uncorked the potion, poured half of it’s swirling blue liquid into the empty one Pascalle had drank from earlier. “Drink this.” She said, handing it to the woman. Once she did, Nasrinne turned back toward Pascalle, crossing the small distance between them to crouch down beside him once more. “You’re going to need this.” She said to him, pressing the other half of the potion into his hand.

His eyes drifted between the potion and Ebrynne.

“Is she alright?” Pascalle’s hand closed around the potion reluctantly

“She’s in better shape than you are.” Nasrinne replied. Truth be told, she probably shouldn’t have her back to the other woman. But she felt confident she was subdued enough, and Pascalle was still her primary concern. “And I can’t carry both of you through the woods.” 

“Not to mention if Dione reappears…” He gave her another weak smile, “I think you’re right about the concussion.” He tipped it back till every drop disappeared, glancing toward where she crouched beside him. His hand reached toward her, brushing softly against her knee.

“You would have made a fine knight, Nas. Thank you.” He tried to give it a reassuring squeeze, and gasped. His hand snapping back toward his chest as his body shook with the sudden pain. “I just need a few moments longer.” 

She shook her head,

“No.” She turned her eyes toward Ebrynne, walking over to the woman and helping her, rather ungracefully, to her feet. “The potions will do well enough to let the both of you rest, even with those knocks to the head, and we’ve got a long walk.” She said, leading her closer to what was left of the campfire. She kicked at the other bedroll with the corner of her boot to get it flat again. Then she gestured for the woman to sit.

“Get some sleep. Both of you.” She said, as she started to tidy up the mess of coals and right her kettle again. “At least a half bell. I’ll watch for any trouble.”

Ebrynne wasn’t stupid enough to try and take Pascalle and Nasrinne with her hands shackled. She laid herself down begrudgingly. Muttering curses and Dione’s name. Nasrinne didn’t know if she slept at all because she turned her back to the two of them and stared into the darkness of the cave. Keeping her wounded leg elevated.

She let Pascalle doze for perhaps a little over half a bell, but no more than a few ticks. She was already back in her leathers and chain shirt when roused him gently with a touch to his shoulder.

“Come on.” She said to him softly, helping him to his feet.

Once he had donned his armour, they got their prisoner up. Nasrinne tied a rope around the chain between the shackles, handing it to Pascalle.

“Let’s get walking. I’ll lead.” She said dryly as Pascalle unsheathed his sword winding the rope about his hand and then pulling it taught.

“After you.” He said to Ebrynne, a light smirk upon his lips. She had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling openly.

It would have been a nice walk really. The scenery was beautiful. The woods of the Shroud were lush and green after the rains, and there was plenty to look at. This was fortunate because Ebrynne was regularly showering them with curses and gleefully telling them they were doomed. Something she seemed eager to impart to Nasrinne with far more regularity than Pascalle. After about a couple of bells, however, they decided to gag her to keep her ranting diatribes from attracting any unwanted attention, man, or beast.

It took them until the sun was well beneath the horizon to finally reach Gridania and the Adder’s Nest again. Fortunately, they were able to get the ferry from Sweetbloom. (Nasrinne had reasoned that it would be faster than going back to the Hawthorne Hut.)

After Ebrynne was safe in a cell, Cessely took them to the Barrack’s infirmary to see to Pascalle’s injuries. She did a damn good job on his nose too, Nasrinne was impressed. You’d hardly tell it had been broken at all.

“Once the swelling goes down that snoz will be right as rain.” The Captain said to him with a grin.

“Right. How are we going to do this, then?” Jhulayne asked them from where he sat on the chair at the foot of Pascalle’s bed.

“Well, I’d say you need a good night’s rest.” Cessely remarked in a serious tone. “From what you’ve told me of the way here, she’s a smart mouth. So, you’ll want to have all your wits about you when you question her. I’ve sent a few men out already to turn that shack over. But if we find anything even remotely like what you say you saw, we’ll have her on possession alone.”

“Do you think all four of us will be more intimidating, or less?” Nasrinne asked.

“Probably less, if she’s been mouthing threats at you.” Cessely replied honestly. “She’ll see it as her mind games winning, you’re afraid so you’ve called in the calvary.”

She gave a little sigh, glancing toward Pascalle as she paced along the length of the bed he was resting on. His eyes were closed as he listened to the conversation.

“Can we use a linkpearl, perhaps?” Jhulayne suggested, “That way, Nas, you and Pas could take point. So, to speak. Cess and I could provide advice…”

“We’ve set up something like that before.” Cessely nodded. “Use a company channel, set up a tomestone to record the conversation and relay it back to us so we can hear it.”

“Lets do that.” Pascalle nodded, opening his eyes finally. “She might be in a more cooperative mood tomorrow too, after a night in a cell contemplating what throwing her lot in with the Brotherhood has really got her.”

“Alright.” Cessely said, “Jhuls and I can get it set up tonight. The two of you, get some rest.” She glanced toward Nasrinne, “Especially you. Pacing up and down like a cat in a cage.” She shook her head.

Jhulayne laughed,

“Telling Nasrinne to get some rest is like telling the tide not to turn, Cess.” He said as he stood.

“Maybe for you.” Cessely gave him a wink, “But I get to tell her it’s an order.” She pointed a finger sternly at her after she said it.

“Alright, alright.” Nasrinne held up her hands, relenting. “Just let me help Pas back to his room and I’m straight to bed.”

“Thank you, Nasrinne.” Pascalle said, rising slowly, “I appreciate it. My legs still feel like jelly if I’m honest.”

“That’s what happens when you’re on them all day with three fractured ribs and a broken nose.” Cessely said with a snicker as she and Jhulayne departed.

\----


	10. Chapter 10

**_Adder’s Nest; Gridania_ **

It was not a pleasant room. There was no long oak desk. No pitcher of water. It was just a card table, and a chair inside a tiny box, really. No windows. One iron door. With a grate.

Ebrynne sat with her arms folded across her chest, looking down at the chain that stretched between her feet.

Every line was straight, every corner sharp, and the chairs looking as comfortable as a tree stump. Pascalle made his way to the back of the poisoner and leaned against the wall. Her eyes watched him as he made his way past. In the ceiling above them was the magitek device that allowed Jhulayne and Cessely to hear everything they were saying. Nasrinne tried not to fidget with the linkpearl sitting in her ear.

“So…” Nasrinne said, “The Adders already have enough to prosecute you, just from what we found in your shack… but we might be able to convince them to go easy on you. If you agree to work with us and give up your contacts in the Brotherhood.”

Ebrynne spat in her direction. The glob of saliva hitting the card table with a splat.

“I already  _ told _ you.  _ You’re _ not getting  _ shit _ from me about  _ anything _ .”

“We know Dione took some of the vials of the Black Yew compound. It won’t be long before we get him too…Why do you want to make this so hard on yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter  _ who _ you get. Don’t you  _ get _ that?” Ebrynne laughed at her, “ _ Your _ number is already up. It’s just a matter of time.”

Nasrinne gritted her teeth.

‘ _ Don’t let her get to you, Little Bird _ .’ Jhulayne whispered in her ear. Although Pascalle would be able to hear it too. They were all on the same channel.

“If you won’t tell us who your contacts are, what about Dione? Will you tell us about him?”

Did the Brotherhood really have its members so scared, so under their thumb that they’d all be so… uncooperative? Pascalle’s face reeled in disgust when Ebrynne spat on the table. He looked up toward Nasrinne on the other side of the table, shaking his head in agreeance with Jhulayne’s words ringing in their heads. He had told himself, and Nasrinne he wouldn’t lose his temper.

“And how long to you think The Adders will keep  _ you _ locked up Ebrynne?” No doors. No windows. No way out. Every minute will be hell. It’s just a matter of time. What even for? Dione? The man tried to kill you before he made his escape, you know?” Pas rounded the side of the table as he spoke, his tone was cool and logical.

Ebrynne’s steely expression disappeared, if only for a moment as her hand drifted toward the bandage on her leg. The façade returned quickly, she craned her neck up toward Pas from where she was sitting, and a sinister smile spread across her mouth revealing discoloured teeth. A shrill laugh soon followed, as she returned to the same rhetoric as before. She turned and looked Nasrinne right in the eye. “Your number is already up. You can’t protect yourself let alone keep me safe.” 

Jhulayne’s voice crackled in their ears. “ _ Ebrynne is familiar with the workings of the Brotherhood. She knows she’s in danger. Keep pressing. _ ”

“You sound so sure about that.” Nasrinne said, matching her unflinching gaze, “Which only makes your predicament worse, you see. You can’t sit there and pretend you’re not involved with this organisation while you use them to threaten me.” Her lip twitched slightly upwards, not quite a sneer, but almost. “Why should I be so afraid of what you say? You’re useless to them, Dione said it himself right before he threw his knife at you.” Now, it was a sneer. “I know you’re not the only assassin that they have on their books, Ebrynne. You’re replaceable. The only people who have any use for you right now are standing with you in this room.”

Ebrynne grinned a yellow-tooth grin at Nasrinne.

“You’re the only one getting replaced.” She chuckled, “You think there haven’t been other smug cunts like you who’ve tried what you’re trying now?”

“What others?”

“Doesn’t matter, because it always goes the same way for them.” Ebrynne shrugged, “It’ll go the same way for you.”

Nasrinne glanced away from the other woman’s cheshire smile to look at Pascalle where he stood not far from her, seeing if he had any other ideas. Because this was just going around in circles.

“Don’t bother looking to him for help. He’s the reason you’re in this mess in the first place. Take a piece of advice from me,  _ little bird _ .” Nasrinne froze, unable to keep the shock off her face as Ebrynne used that nickname for her. No one called her that except for... “Forget about him, go back home and put your  _ family _ first.”

“Are you threatening my family?” She didn’t mean to sound so vexed as she said it, but it was too late now.

Jhulayne’s voice crepitated through their linkshells, his tone apprehensive,

“ _ How could she… Nasrinne don’t let her get to you _ .”

Pascalle was white as chalk. His eyes and mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise, and although he was staring straight at Ebrynne he appeared not to notice her at all. Little bird… Family first… What a turn of events for her to suddenly come out with such personal knowledge.

Ebrynne was smug, pleased with herself she had gotten the rise she wanted out of them both. “No wonder they always end up dead. Fucking stupid, the lot of you _. _ ” Pascalle laid his palms flat down onto the table.

“Tis plain no single person can stand against the might of the Brotherhood. You obviously know of my father, then you know that I’m protected. There have been no other  _ smug cunts _ like me.” He hoped that was truly the case, finally realising it could be twisted to his advantage.

“I won’t stop until you spend the rest of your life locked in a cell, Eb _ rynne. _ ” He sighed and put his hands to rest on his hips. “So maybe you want to start with where exactly my father fits into all of this. It’s not as if I’m not going to find out eventually.”

Ebrynne scoffed at Pascalle’s attempt, though there was a distinct flash of worry that crossed her face for a split second

“What? Why would I? You’re going to give me shelter and three meals a day until I get out of here. I’m not having my throat slit in the night.” She turned away from him, turning her attention to the grate in the roof above. “Isn’t that right, captain?” 

‘ _ Fuck _ .’ Cessely cursed, ‘ _ Bitch has pinned us. _ ’

Nasrinne’s nostrils flared slightly, they should have been expecting this. An organisation like the Brotherhood would have knowledge of how the authorities operated in these situations.

“Captain Cessely, I’ve changed my mind. We’ll press the full charges against her, “Including the charges for assaulting a Lord of the Holy See.”

Cessely chuckled slightly on the other end of the linkpearl.

‘ _ Make her be the one to start sweating, Nas.’  _ Jhulayne’s voice whispered encouragingly. 

“Send the guards back in,” She gave Pascalle a wave to indicate they should leave. “We’ve heard everything we need to hear from her. If she wants to add more time to her sentence, so be it.” She gave Ebrynne a little shrug, pausing at the door. “Enjoy your three meals a day, and your shelter, Ebrynne. We’ll be sure to send someone once we’ve got the paperwork ready.”

Cessely and Jhulayne were waiting for them in the hall on the other side of the door.

“Let’s go.” Cessely almost growled the words as two of her squadron passed them to take Ebrynne back to her cell.

The door to the Captain’s office closed with enough force the piles of paper on the ever-absent Hasta’s desk billowed slightly. Miraculously managing to become even more scattered and haphazard than before.

“That was a right fuckin’ cock-up.” Cessely cursed. Nasrinne felt herself recoil a little inside at the venom in the other woman’s voice. It must have been noticeable. Because Cessely sighed.

“It’s not your fault,” She said shaking her head. “I’m not blaming you. Honestly… look even I’m surprised she had read on your family nickname…”

“It’s not as if it’s a complete secret.” Jhulayne’s frown was set deep upon his lips. “It’s more that it means for certain that the Brotherhood has been asking about us.”

“Or at least about me…” She muttered.

“One of the lads reckons that Brynne seems to be addicted to something.” Cessely told them. “She might not be so smug once she’s gone a few days without a taste. We’ll come up with a different angle for questioning her…”

“For now, I think all of us could use a drink, eh?” Jhulayne tried to tug a smile onto his lips.

“Yes. For now, let’s just take some solace that Ebrynne is in a cell.” Pascalle agreed, they were in this together now, the four of them. It was a comforting thought. Comforting enough for him to find the smile that each of them needed to see. “We can talk about a new plan tomorrow, with clearer heads.”

\----

**_The Roost; Gridania_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Eight days later_ **

It was a clear morning. Nasrinne was up early, which was unusual for her. But she had woke from her slumber with a sudden start; and though the sun had not yet risen, try as she might she could not get sleep to visit her again. After tossing and turning until the grey tones of twilight had begun to seep through the cracks in her curtains, she resolved to get herself up. It was a pity that she didn’t have Softbeak with her, the sky was bright already, it would have been a perfect day for an early morning ride.

She hummed a tune, softly, while she washed her face and got dressed for the day. Cessely felt they were making good progress with Ebrynne. Apparently, she had already expected someone to have ferreted her out of the Adder’s clutches. At least, that’s what she was blabbing to the member of Cessely’s squad who had gone in under cover as a fellow convict. Today they would go over the notes that had been gathered and prepare a line of questioning for Cessely to take. Everything seemed sound and solid. She thought to herself.

Then, quite unexpectedly, there was a knock at her door. A  _ knock _ ? She paused mid way through lacing her boot. It couldn’t be a knock at the door. No one would bother her  _ this _ early without good reason. She shook her head. She must be hearing things.

_ Tap-tap-tap-tap _ .

No. It was a knock. Nasrinne stood, boots still half laced. She stepped hesitantly toward the door.

“Who is it?” She said as she turned the lock,

“It’s me.” Her brother’s voice sounded from the other side of the wood. It was unmistakably Jhulayne’s voice, but it sounded thin and pale.

“Jhuls?” She said as she swung the door open, “What is it? Come in.”

He was already in before she finished speaking. Closing the door behind him quietly and leaning against it.

“Nas…” He began. His hand was shaking, and the wrist where the other hand would have been was wobbling too.

“Jhuls?” She said his name again, even though it was stupid and pointless really and not the question she wanted to ask. Which was;  _ what’s wrong? _

His eyes were shining, but not in the merry way they usually shone. No, these eyes were misted. Gleaming with worry and fear.

“Nas… it’s Father.” He stammered out finally. She grasped his shoulder, steadying him because she thought he might slide to the floor.

“What about Father? Jhuls, what’s happened?” She asked him. She could hear her voice from outside herself, low and urgent.

“There’s been an accident… one of the birds…”

“The birds?”

“We’ve got to get back to Ishgard. Now.” Jhulayne turned his head, looking not so much at the door as through it.

“Pascalle.” She said knowingly. How could they ask him to go back to Ishgard  _ now _ ? Now he’d finally freed himself from carrying that terrible secret… from looking his Father in the face everyday and  _ knowing _ what he was. “He can’t…”

“I know.” Jhulayne sighed. “We need to tell him and…”

“Don’t worry.” Nasrinne squeezed his shoulder. “You’re right, we need to hurry home. Pascalle will understand, he has connections here. Plus, he can always use the apartment back in Ul’dah, too.” She said, trying to sound calm and reassuring. In control. But there was a panic inside of her. “Come on, let’s tell him now.”

Pascalle was already awake of course.

“What? By the Fury, this is terrible.” He said as he paced the floor of his room. Jhulayne was leaning against his door. And Nasrinne… Nasrinne’s mind was already in Ishgard.  _ An accident? One of the birds? How? _ There were too many questions racing around her head. She could hardly follow what Pascalle was saying to her.

“Listen to me, both of you. Don’t worry about me.” He was saying as he looked at her, his eyes brimming with his concern. “If Tristione will let me make use of the apartment, then I’ve no fear of losing a roof over my head.”

“Of course, he’ll let you use it. No question.” Jhulayne said to him, “He doesn’t even need to know the real reason. The work you’re doing helping me is enough.”

“I can sort out the arrangements with him later. I’ll stay here and see things through with Cessely. The two of you should leave, every moment you’re here is a moment you’re not with your family when they need you.”

She felt like her heart broke a little more somehow when he said it. Not because he said it unkindly, or for any lack of sincerity. It’s because she still hadn’t found a way to swallow the injustice that his own kin had done to him.

“Thank you, Paz.” Jhulayne sighed as his hand fell upon the handle of the door. “We’ll get in touch via the linkpearl as soon as we touch down in Coerthas and keep you up to date.”

Pascalle nodded again, waving his hands in a shooing motion,

“I know you will. Stop wasting time.”

Jhulayne was already out in the hall, and she was a step behind him when she stopped, looking back over her shoulder and up into those piercing blue eyes.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, Pascalle.” She said suddenly, blurting the words out. “We still don’t know what’s happening with Hemmet and Ul’dah-”

“I told you.” He said to her with one of his gentle smiles, “Don’t worry about me, Nas. I’ll be fine.”

“Just promise me…” She repeated.

“I promise.” He told her solemnly. “Now, go.”

And she did. Although the going was something of a blur. Boarding the airship. Taking off. She was hardly aware of any of it happening. She watched the greenery of the mighty Twelveswood grow smaller and smaller as they ascended, the apricot burst of the sun, finally rising across the sky. She listened to the wind as it rushed past her ears, and the voice whispering in her mind.  _ Something isn’t right _ . It whispered.  _ It doesn’t make sense _ . And she felt the cold lump of ice settle in her stomach, recalling Brynne’s mocking smile.

\----

**_The Last Vigil; Ishgard_ **

The late-night air was cold enough to turn the trail of her tears down her cheeks to frost. Nasrinne sniffed as she wiped them away with her sleeve. She looked out across the snow-capped peaks as she leaned against the railing of stone. She had spent the last four nights turning the same thought over and over in her head. This had been no accident. It wasn’t an accident. It was a  _ warning _ . A warning for her. For her brother. A warning that nothing they loved was outside of the Brotherhood’s reach. There was nothing they cared for, that was sacred or off-limits. But that was something that she had already known. She had already known it the moment she heard Brynne speak. Known it deep in her heart.

“I did this to you, Father.” She whispered beneath her breath as she closed her eyes, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “My meddling brought this upon our house…” For it was her. Even  _ if  _ Jhulayne had asked her...  _ She _ had been the one to put the pieces together. What would have happened if she had just said no? “ _ Why didn’t I just say no? _ ” She asked herself the words aloud. As if somehow it would trigger a magical answer for her that would absolve her of all this guilt. But there wasn’t one.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Came the familiar voice behind her. She paused before she turned, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes,

“Tris… I’m sorry, did I make Ygrinne worry?” She smiled at her brother-in-law. It was not a very convincing effort, however.

“No, your sister’s asleep. Everyone is.” He replied with a shrug, walking up to stand beside her, “It’s rather bracing out, Nasrinne. And late.”

“I can’t sleep… I thought some fresh air would…” She trailed off as he looked at her with those canny hazel eyes. “How long have you been standing behind me?”

“Long enough to hear some of the nonsense you’ve been spouting beneath your breath.” He placed his hands upon the railing too. She watched as he began to drum his fingers lightly, his handsome white leather gloves bright in the faint light.  _ Pascalle does that _ . She thought to herself, an indulgent thought that gave her mood a slight lift. Something sorely needed considering he’d been eavesdropping on her.

She gave a long, heavy sigh, looking back out toward the mountains.

“If you knew the things I knew, you wouldn’t think it was nonsense.”

“Perhaps I don’t know the things that you know.” Tristione conceded, “But, I know enough to know this isn’t your fault.”

She shook her head,

“The things I’ve been doing for Jhulayne… the diplomatic investigation… it’s… it’s dangerous, and…” What could she say to him? What could she tell him?  _ Oh well, Sorry Tris, but by trying to get justice served for these strangers, I’ve endangered your whole family? _

“And you think that danger has found its way to us.” He said to her, “You can’t hold yourself responsible for what a frightened animal does when you back it into a corner, Nasrinne.”

She gave a little gasp after he said it. Surprised by the words, even though they were exactly what she needed to hear.

“But if you truly believe there is a cornered beast with his sights upon us as a result of the work you’re doing for  _ this _ city. Then I will take your concerns into consideration. I will use the means at my disposal, as best I can, to keep us safe.” He offered her a small, comforting smile. “Though if you want to make good on your promise to help your brother serve Ishgard, you will have to learn how to make peace with the consequences of that. No matter what they are.”

“No matter what they are…” Nasrinne repeated, her tone somewhere between forlorn and skeptical.

“That’s part of what it means to serve.” He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, “To serve something, you need to believe it’s bigger than anything else, and worth everything it costs.”

Nasrinne gave a soft hum before looking toward him, her eyes rimmed with tears.

“You’re right, Tris.” She said, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Thank you.”

“Come on, the snows will be coming soon.” He squeezed her shoulder, a gentle tug backwards, towards the apartments.

She nodded, unwilling to say anything else. They walked back together in silence, each mulling over the other one’s words. When they finally reached the front door, Tristione turned to her with a knowing sort of grin.

“There’s a pot of warm milk and a pastry fish in the kitchen. Marie set it out for you after she saw you sneak out the kitchen door.”

“That’s how you found me out.” She said, chuckling as they stepped inside.

“Exactly that.” He nodded, still smiling, as he took their coats. “Warm yourself up and then try and get some rest. Things will start to look clearer with the sun rise, they always do.”

\----


	11. Chapter 11

**_Tojori’s Gem’s; Ul’dah_ **

Pascalle held the jewel for a moment longer, admiring the way it glittered beneath the rays of sun that shone through the window of Tojori’s Gems. Like the sun-kissed rivers of the Coerthas of his youth; the brilliant blue hue was so vivid. “An excellent choice.” He said to the Hyur woman standing on the other side of the counter, “The intense blue and violet hues are the result of heat treatment provided by the Thaumaturge’s Guild here in Ul’dah.” He let it fall from his hand into the velvet pouch, passing it to her with a brilliant smile. “Have a lovely day, Madam.” He waved, tossing the gil into the register. 

After several boring days with no one but himself for company, Pascalle had offered his services to Mintori. The truth was, thanks to his Mother, he had a sizable knowledge of jewelry, gems and antiques. And helping people always did bring a smile to his face. 

“Did I hear another sale?” The Lalafell’s voice called out from the back room, “I really should have you on the payroll permanently.” He chuckled. 

Pascalle grinned over his shoulder, “Another Kyanite, actually. Seem to be quite the hit. Ingenious idea to get the Thaumaturge’s Guild on board…”

The truth was, he had stayed in Ul’dah reluctantly. With the investigation at such a critical junction, he would have been hard pressed to convince Nasrinne and Jhulayne he wouldn’t have been putting himself in any danger. But it still pained him. They had just lost their Father, and though he had not much to compare that sentiment to concerning himself, he felt  _ their _ grief keenly. 

But just as one customer left, another arrived. 

A man wearing a wide brim hat pulled low over his eyes. There was a sense of familiarity about the gait of his walk, and his posture. Even without seeing the man’s face, before he even spoke, Pascalle knew in his heart who the person walking through the door was.

“How did you find me here?” Pascalle demanded in a low, dangerous voice. Knowing full well in his heart that he must have had the apartment watched.

“Do you think we could lock the door?” Hemmet asked as he removed the hat, looking up at the giraffe of a man he had come here to see with an apprehensive expression in his bright, tawny eyes. “It won’t do for anyone to see me.”   


Mintori had had several associates watching for this very man’s movements through the city. But he had been a notoriously hard man to find. The Lalafell had assumed he was no longer in Ul’dah. He waddled down from behind the counter, walking toward the little ladder that leaned by the side of the door. Up he climbed, wordlessly, turning each of the locks and then finally, sliding the bolt at the top. Then he flipped his little sign over.    
CLOSED. It now told the outside world. 

The relief on Hemmet’s face as the locks clicked shut upon the door was almost palpable.    
“Shall I fetch you a glass of Cucumber water, Pascalle?” He asked quietly as he came back down the ladder, “And for the Sergeant as well, of course.”   
“I’m fine.” Hemmet replied, quite quickly. 

“No, thank you.” Pascalle shook his head, “I think it’s best if the three of us take a seat.” He said, although he didn’t bother to sit down. Leaning against the counter, his brow furrowed, 

“What are you doing here, Hemmet?” He put the question to the Hyur sternly.

The Sergeant sat down at the furthest seat with a sigh. He could barely hold Pascalle’s gaze.

“I’m here to talk to you.” He said, “To warn you…” He looked around again at the empty shop. Looking for Nasrinne perhaps?  _ Probably _ .

“She’s in Ishgard.” He said, cooly.

“You’re putting her in a great deal of danger.” Hemmet sighed again, “Look, it’s obvious the lass only has eyes for you…”

_Was it?_ _She did?_ Pascalle did his best to keep his expression unaffected by the revelation of this opinion.

“But I care about her anyway. She’s bright, and smart, and a damn sight less stuffy than most noble girls.”

“She is.” Pascalle agreed, folding his arms across his chest, 

“It’s bad enough, what she’s been digging into. She’d be on thin ice whether you were in the picture or not. But now you  _ are _ in the picture…” Hemmet trailed off, looking away from him and out toward the bustling city streets. “I’zuna… She thought we could get rid of you both by pinning everything on Tabor and his goons… I was always going to turn up at her apartment. We were always going to sell Fabrice off to them… And Arnor was going to take the fall. But she wasn’t… I mean…” Hemmet looked down at his hands where they lay, useless and trembling in his lap.    
“No one was supposed to kill I’zuna.” He said finally. “That was never part of the plan.” He swallowed a lump in his throat.  “Nasrinne’s too smart for them though… or at least, smarter than they expected her to be. If she was anyone else… me, your Captain friend in the Adders… even this little fellow here.” He gestured to Mintori. “They’d probably try to pay her off first. Buy her silence and cooperation. But she’s not anyone else. She’s a girl who fancies you… that complicates the whole thing a lot more, doesn’t it. Pascalle?”  It wasn’t that Hemmet had any idea about Mirielle. He didn’t. He knew about something else though. The inner workings of the Brotherhood.

“Things are only complicated in the first place by schmucks such as yourself.” Pascalle glared at the man, unable to hold his tongue on the matter. “Taking orders from some shadowy organisation at the expense of the citizens you’re meant to protect?” How could he come in here putting the blame for Nasrinne’s safety on him when he himself had been directly enabling the brotherhood to operate in Ul’dah from the shadows. “And for what? To pad your coin purse out a little more?” 

“Aye, you’ve pegged me for the dog I am, m’lord.” Hemmet took the accusations in stride. They were, after all, correct. “Only you’ll forgive me if it don’t hurt me that much, considering it’s coming from a rich boy who grew up fat on his Father’s blood money.” He shrugged, “I’m not here to trade barbs with you about which of us is more righteous or has a clean record. There’s no point to that.” He shook his head, running his stocky fingers through the crop of his sandy hair. 

Pascalle tapped his finger on the counter, sighing. No point burning a bridge with the man now when there was so much to be gained.   
“No, there isn’t.” He agreed, “So, speak your piece.” 

“You know, an enterprise like theirs… it gets its power in lots of ways.” He replied, “They make their deals in lots of ways too. They’re not averse to using people as pawns to secure their assets or maneuver their interests. Lobbying politicians, buying off guardsmen. Installing people loyal to their cause in influential positions... Marriage is one of the ways they do that, of course. Only there’s nothing powerful about House Filois… I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.” He cleared his throat, “I’m quite certain the Brotherhood is busy making them  _ less _ powerful, right  _ now _ .” Finally, after all of their wandering, Hemmet’s eyes fixed themselves upon Pascalle’s again. “So I came here to warn you, they’re doing that.”

He knew Hemmet was speaking the truth, that there was no real power in the Filois Family, it was the reason his father had gotten ridden of Mirielle. If he would ever want to choose his own path, Artreux would have to be out of the picture. But what did he mean by less powerful… it took a moment to sink in until Pascalle realised. His eyes widened in shock.    
“Nasrinne’s Father? But… from all accounts it was an accident.”

“Accidents don’t leave people asking questions.” Hemmet replied darkly, looking down at the varnished floor.

He turned to Mintori who had a similar expression of grief mixed with shock strewn across his face.

“I know what you’re saying Hemmet. And you obviously know much more than you let onto us previously.” He was angry, he turned and started to pace the length of the counter. He didn’t look at either of them. “How could we trust you now, if they’re as insidious as you say… couldn’t this all be a trick?” 

“After I saw I’zuna, I asked some questions… questions I probably shouldn’t have. Like,  _ why did you have to kill her? _ She wasn’t a threat to  _ them _ , after all…” His voice cracked slightly, he cleared his throat before continuing. “Other questions too, like,  _ how come we’ve got a rat like Dione Memort in this city now? _ Because you know, when I started padding my purse as you put it, there wasn’t head nor tail of him in the city… No messy little Ishgardian accidents to be cleaning up. It was just ‘turn your head at this shipment’ or ‘forget to check this cargo’. It wasn’t nothing like it’s been these past few months.” His eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched impotently by his sides. “You think I  _ liked _ cleaning up after  _ that _ bastard? I wasn’t happy about it. I just hoped it would  _ stop _ .” He swallowed the very visible lump in his throat. “You’ve seen what he does… and I thought. I was stupid. I thought they’d see how much trouble he was going to bring here…” His voice trailed off to a whisper, “But I suppose you can’t be seen to be  _ questioning _ the authorities that be. There’s consequences for that.” He looked grim as a corpse. His lips set into a horse-shoe frown. The man couldn’t have looked anymore defeated. “So I’ve nowhere left to turn. And I  _ believe _ Naz, when she says you’re an honourable man.” She’s  _ quick  _ that one. Quick as she is pretty. You can’t pull the wool over her eyes. If you really were cut from the same cloth as the Lord Dubois whose name _ I  _ hear whispered; she wouldn’t have a bar of you. She’d see through you. Like she saw through me.” He sighed. 

“Hemmet, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop presuming to have such a candid relationship with Lady Filois.” Pascalle replied a little tetchily, he could deal with Hemmet’s backhanded commentary when it concerned him. But whenever the Sergeant spoke  _ fondly _ of Nasrinne, it rubbed him the wrong way. There was a certain level of audacity to it, after all, he just admitted to aiding I’zuna in trying to be rid of them.

“Nasrinne can tell me how candid our relationship is.” Hemmet shot back, eyes narrowing.

“Hemmet.” Mintori interjected, “Do know Pascalle has no desire to give offense to those whom would wish to join hands. If you both have the Lady Filois’ best interests at heart, then perhaps you could start by giving us something in good faith. Something that will  _ help _ keep her away from this… danger, you’re speaking of.” 

_ Halone, Bless Mintori and his timely interventions. _ Pascalle thought to himself.

“Right.” Hemmet agreed gruffly, looking toward the Lalafell with a nod. “There’s a small meeting set to go down. One of the other Commander’s. Stone.” He told them, “It’ll be Firesday. Meets him up in Pearl Lane, usually. I can show you the spot. It’ll be before the merchant’s open.”

“What about you?” He asked, “You’re risking much by coming here, aren’t you? Surely there’s something more you want for this than Nasrinne’s safety. Coin? Help to disappear?”

“I don’t need coin, but after I do this… I’ll need to be out of the city and somewhere  _ far _ away.” He frowned a little, “If you can help smuggle me out of Ul’dah, that’s more than enough.” 

“We could help you flee to Gridania.” Mintori replied, “It could be arranged, with a small amount of preperation.” 

“You help us find what we want here in UI’dah, and we’ll help you leave it behind.” Pascalle canted his head, studying the other man. 

“I’ll meet you here, sunrise, Firesday.” Hemmet replied, 

There was much for Pascalle to think on, an unexpected thread had presented itself to him and all there was for him to do now was tug on it. He wondered if Dione was within the city somewhere, at this very moment.    
“Firesday it is then. You’ll have earned more than a way out of the city if you can come through with this.”

Hemmet rose from the stool, looking toward Mintori,    
“Don’t suppose this place has a back exit?”

“As a matter of fact, it does.” The Lalafell replied, “And well concealed.” He said, beckoning for Hemmet to follow.

Pas rose to his feet to join Hemmet as he followed the Lalafell to the rear entrance, Mintori unlatching the many locks and sliding the steel door open to a dark alley. 

The Hyur placed his wide brim hat over his head and pulled his collar up high before stepping outside into one of the many hidden back alleys of Ul’dah.    
“Hemmet.” He spoke softly but still loud enough to catch the man's attention.

“Yes?” Hemmet glanced back over his shoulder. 

“Stay safe, would you.” 

\----


End file.
